


Battles Lost and Won

by Blueskydancers



Series: Secrets and Consequences [17]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings RPF, The Professionals
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-05
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-08-19 18:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 40,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8220157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueskydancers/pseuds/Blueskydancers
Summary: It's 1985 and the ghost had warned this was going to be the year he was at the height of his powers. Is Lan in more danger and, if so, what can Sean and Lan do to prevent it?





	1. March 1985

Lan pushed open the door to the office and spotted Daphne sitting behind her desk with a phone balanced against her ear. She waved to acknowledge him but continued with her conversation. “Yes, Muriel, I’ve got your phone number and will get either Orlando or Sean to phone you as soon as they get back to the office.”

Daphne listened for a moment before speaking again, “No, Muriel, I can’t ensure it will be Orlando who gets the message, I’ve no idea who will be back first.”

Lan struggled not to laugh out loud and give away his presence. Muriel Young had been one of their first clients when they set up their business. She had contacted them because she had suspected that her neighbours had been digging up plants from her front garden at night and the local police had said they didn’t have the manpower to investigate. With no other clients to occupy them, he and Sean had spent several nights sitting in Muriel’s front room, drinking endless cups of tea and watching out of the window to catch the culprits. The joke had been on them when finally, after three uneventful nights, they had seen a stray dog appear in the garden though a hole in the hedge and dig up several clumps of spring bulbs before running off. Their ensuing fits of laughter had woken Muriel from where she was dozing in an armchair. After she’d made them more tea and some toast they’d gone home still laughing. 

Since that first job she’d tended to ring them if she developed the slightest suspicion about anything. It had been okay to begin with but, as their workload and number of clients had increased, Muriel had become something of a problem. However, as she lived alone, neither Sean nor Lando had wanted to put her off. The problem had been solved when Daphne had joined them. She had taken Muriel under her wing making sure to visit the elderly widow at least once a week and inviting her to share dinner with her family once a month.

Waiting until Daphne had put the phone down, Lan took off his suit jacket, hanging it on a hanger and then on the coat stand. Pulling his chair out from behind his desk, he slumped into it and began to loosen his tie.

“Is Muriel okay?”

“Yes, she’s fine. She’s having a problem with her back door lock and wanted you or Sean to go around and have a look at it for her. Apparently it’s locked shut so there is no problem with someone coming in uninvited, it’s just a pain if she wants to get into the back garden as she has to go out the front door and down the side of the house.”

Grinning Lan stretched out, balancing precariously in his chair, “I can call round if you like.”

Daphne looked thoughtful for a minute. “I haven’t seen her for a few weeks and I’m getting a little worried at how frail she seems. If it’s okay with you, I could leave a bit early and pop in on my way home. I’ll have a quick look and make sure she’s using the right key – you know how forgetful she can be sometimes. If there is still a problem, maybe you could have a look on Monday?”

“That’s fine with me. I’ll wait until Sean gets back and then we’ll probably head home. It’s Friday and we’ve all had a busy week so it will be good to get away a bit earlier.”

“Do you want a cup of tea, before I go?” 

“Yes please,” his stomach rumbled loudly so he added, “and have we got any biscuits? I missed out on lunch again.”

“I could go out and get you a sandwich.”

Lan shook his head. “No, that would be too much trouble. I'll be fine with the biscuits.”

“If you're sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll make Sean take me out for dinner later.”

When Daphne came back with his mug of tea and a plate of biscuits, he said, “You’re a life saver, Daph.”

He finished his tea and inhaled three biscuits without speaking and then, when he was feeling a bit better, remembered the cheque he’d picked up earlier. Walking over to the coat stand he took it out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it to Daphne. “There you go, that’s the payment from The Priory. They wanted to settle up straight away. Something about getting the payment made in this financial year.” Lan used to keep the books for the company which had caused him no end of headaches and was one of the reasons he and Sean had employed Daphne. 

“Good, I’ll get it banked on Monday.”

Lan thought for a moment before asking, “You know that you have a much better idea of our finances than I do now, so do you think there is enough money in the bank for Sean and I to get away for a couple of weeks later in the year?

“You’re thinking of shutting the office for two weeks?”

“Yeah, but it’s not certain yet as I’ve not really spoken to Sean about it.” He tried without success to stifle a yawn. Thank God it was Friday and they had nothing at all planned for the weekend.

“It might be a bit slow when you get back because it will take a while for more work to come in but I’m sure you could. When were you thinking of going?”

“Maybe the middle of September, once the schools are back. Is that going to work for you?”

“Yes, that would be fine. The only plans we have this year are in July and I’d like to take the first week off. The local historical society are organising a re-enactment of the Battle of Sedgemoor because it is the three hundredth anniversary this year.”

As soon as Daphne mentioned three hundred years his mind flashed back to the words the ghost of Roger Fitzwalter had spoken to him. The spectre had taunted Lan about being at his strongest for three centuries at Halloween later this year. If Lan added the fact that Fitzwalter’s clothing was from the seventeenth century, then it all seemed to point to the event which had brought Thomas Hobbes and Roger Fitzwalter together occurring in 1685.

So could Fitzwalter have been involved in the Battle of Sedgemoor? 

Conscious that Daphne was waiting for him to say something he asked, “Battle of Sedgemoor? I’ve heard of it but don’t really know any details or where it took place.”

“Have you seen the road signs showing the route of the Pitchfork Rebellion?”

“The brown information ones? Yeah, I think so, maybe when we were south of Bristol and over near Cheddar.”

“The battle and rebellion are one and the same.” Daphne rummaged around in her handbag and pulled out a leaflet which she handed to him. “There’s some more detailed information in there and a really good museum in Bridgwater if you want to know more.”

Lan looked at the leaflet and saw several paintings of battle scenes, seventeenth century he thought from the weapons shown and the clothes the participants were wearing. “So what was the Pitchfork Rebellion?” He forced a grin, “it sounds more like French farmers protesting about the imports of lamb from this side of the channel.”

Daphne’s expression was a little exasperated when she said, “Shame on you Orlando, you’ve lived in this part of the country for a year now and you haven’t picked up any local history at all! The Battle of Sedgemoor was the last battle fought on English soil. It is also known as the Pitchfork Rebellion because most of the rebels were farmers and pitchforks were the only weapons they had. In contrast the King’s Army was a successor of the famous New Model Army created by Oliver Cromwell. They were-”

“I can guess. They were professional, well-armed and well trained with experienced officers,” Lan interrupted.

“Exactly.” Daphne had tidied her desk and was now putting on her coat.

“So it was a slaughter?”

“Pretty much and those that weren’t killed were dealt with harshly.” Daphne stopped abruptly and looked at her watch. “Sorry, I need to go now if I’m to drop in on Muriel on my way. Have a good weekend and I’ll answer any questions you have on Monday if I can.”

“Yeah okay, I'll have a read over the weekend. Night, Daph, see you on Monday.”

Lan stood at the window for a moment and watched as Daphne got into her car and backed out of her parking place. Once her car had disappeared around a corner, he looked at his watch. It was nearly four, Sean would be back in the next thirty minutes, which gave him just enough time to get some paperwork done.

In the end he didn’t do any paperwork; when he got back to his desk the leaflet Daphne had given him beckoned and he started to read that instead. 

He was so engrossed in the leaflet that he didn’t realise Sean had come in. It was probably the fact that Fitzwalter was on his mind so when Sean threw his car keys on the desk Lan, jumped and cursed. “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, I thought you heard me. I wasn’t creeping around. What were you reading? It must have been interesting to stop you noticing me.” Sean raised his eyebrows as if to ask how Lan could possibly ignore him.

“Daphne gave me this leaflet. She’s part of the committee who are organising the events to mark the three hundred year anniversary of the Battle of Sedgemoor in July.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Neither had I but we got talking about it because she’s going to need some time off in July.”

“So where is Sedgemoor? I’ve seen the services called that on the M5 but had no idea it was called after a battle.” 

“According to this,” Lan waved the leaflet, “the battle took place in a village called Westonzoyland which is near Bridgwater.”

“So why the interest?”

Lan shrugged, he wasn’t sure he could explain his certainty that Fitzwalter was connected to the Battle of Sedgemoor to Sean any more than he could to himself. After a few seconds of silence he began, “It feels to me as if Roger Fitzwalter is somehow connected to this battle.”

“It would be too much to hope that he is mentioned by name in there.” Sean pointed at the leaflet.

“I’ve not read it properly yet but I scanned it and didn’t see his name but then apart from the nobles, the only other names mentioned are Judge Jeffries and a soldier called Percy Kirke.”

“Judge Jeffries? Why does that name sound familiar?”

“You’re probably like me and remember him from history lessons at school. I knew the name but had no idea he was involved with events that took place locally. It says here that King James sent him down to deal with the rebels and told him to show them no mercy. So he executed hundreds of them and transported the rest. Of course if their families came up with enough money to buy their freedom he was open to persuasion to let them go.”

“Tell you what, why don’t we go home now, I could really do with a shower; then we can go to The Stag for dinner or get takeaway, your choice. After we’ve eaten, you can tell me more about this battle and why you think the ghost is involved.”

“Okay, that sounds like a plan,” Lan agreed quickly, anything that saved him having to explain his hunch until he was sure of his reasoning was welcome.


	2. March 1985 part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a Saturday morning lie in, Sean and Lan try to gather more information. A visit to a church ends up being a bit more than they bargained for.

Sean woke to the sound of cups being put down on the bedside table. Knowing that it was Saturday and that he didn’t have to get up he stretched, luxuriating in the softness of cotton sheets against his skin before opening his eyes. 

Lando threw the newspapers down on the bed and, after taking off his towelling robe, climbed back in beside Sean. Leaning over he pressed a gentle kiss on Sean’s mouth. “Morning.”

Pulling Lan closer and deepening the kiss, Sean tasted coffee in his lover’s mouth. “My favourite, coffee flavoured Lando.”

Lando snorted. “Idiot!”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

Having Lan next to him in bed quickly gave Sean several ideas of how to pass the next few hours, none of which required either of them to wear any clothes at all.

“You want your coffee?” Lan interrupted his imaginings. 

“Nah, I want you.” Sean nuzzled into Lan’s neck, knowing that it was one of his favourite erogenous zones. 

He gasped, “Jesus, Sean, you know when you do that I turn into a puddle.” 

Sean didn’t respond, just sucked harder on the pulse point just under his ear before pushing Lan down beneath him. Sean suddenly felt a huge need to possess his lover again so, with minimal preparation, he slammed into him. Lan gasped at the sudden penetration and despite the surge of lust, Sean had enough control to wait for a few more seconds to allow him time to adjust.

Lan gave a brief nod and that was all the encouragement Sean needed to start thrusting into him urgently. He wasn’t completely selfish and managed to wank Lan to a climax before letting go himself. It felt like an explosion in his balls as he emptied himself into Lan’s willing body.

“Bloody hell.” Sean pushed himself over onto his back and lay there with his chest heaving. After a few minutes he managed to roll onto his side. Lan hadn’t moved but the smug smile he was wearing told Sean he was fine.

When his breathing and heart rate were finally back to normal Sean realised that they still hadn’t managed to finish the discussion they started yesterday afternoon. 

“You’re distracting me.” He told Lan who cracked on eye open and stared back at him. 

“How do you work that out? You’re the one who just screwed me into the mattress.”

“Ah well, you got back into bed and were naked and it doesn’t usually take much more encouragement to get me started, you know that.”

“I still don’t see it as being my fault,” Lan countered.

Sean opened his mouth to respond and then stopped. He was doing it again which, knowing Lan as well as he did after nearly five years together, meant the subject was something he felt unsure about. Taking Lan’s hand, Sean kissed his knuckles briefly and said, “What’s bothering you? I know something is. Can we talk about it?”

Without opening his eyes, Lan said, “It all seems so unbelievable. After all the time we’ve spent trying to track down the bastard it can’t just have come to me from a chance remark. It can’t be that simple.”

“Come on, Lan, I’ve been with you over the last five Halloweens, I’ve seen and heard things I would never have imagined, so I think I can at least listen to your idea. Maybe your ability to see things and events is telling you this.”

“Okay, so where do we start?”

“How about giving Bodie a ring, he’s ex-army so he might know how to track down the soldier, what was his name?”

Lan turned and leaned over to retrieve the leaflet from the floor beside the bed giving Sean a wonderful view of his naked arse for a couple of seconds.

“Percy Kirke. He commanded a regiment called Kirke’s Lambs.”

“That can’t be the real name of the regiment but I bet Bodie can find out for us. And at least it’s somewhere to start.”

“Okay, I’ll ring him later on, it’s still early and it is Saturday. Daphne also mentioned a museum in Bridgwater, if l give her a call and ask her for the name maybe we could go and visit later today?”

Sean nodded; relieved that at last they might be doing something to reduce the danger to Lan at Halloween. October was more than six months away but he knew from experience how quickly time would pass. “Sure thing, Bridgwater is only thirty miles away so we could be there in less than an hour and there are bound to be some good pubs around where we could get some lunch.”

Lan leaned over and kissed him and what started out as a simple thank you soon turned into something more. It was another hour before they finally left the bed and then another hour again until they had showered and breakfasted. It was nearly midday when they finally started on the drive to Bridgwater.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As they approached the museum through a light drizzle Lan’s heat sank, there weren’t any lights showing through the windows and the front door was shut. When they were close enough he saw a sign on the door which read that the museum only opened on Saturday between April and the end of October.

“Shit!” Lan cursed. He hadn’t realised just how much he had been banking on finding someone here who could help them.

Sean rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Sorry, love. It’s the first of April in a week’s time so how about we come back then and have a look around?”

With a sinking heart Lan nodded. “Yeah, there’s not much else we can do now.”

Sean turned and started walking back to the car. When Lan fell into step beside him he said, “As we’re out do you want to head over to Westonzoyland, where the battle took place, and see if we can find out anything there? We won’t waste the trip then and there’s bound to be a pub where we can find something to eat too.”

It was a good suggestion and he knew Sean was trying to help. “Okay. It’s only about five miles away.”

Sean looked at his watch. “Great that means we can get there before they stop serving food.”

“Would you mind if we went to the church first – maybe there are some leaflets there with more information we could look at while we are eating?”

“That’s fine with me,” Sean agreed.

Orlando looked around as they drove into the village. He’d half hoped he would get some sort of feeling once he got here that would make everything clear but so far he felt nothing. Maybe that would change when he got out of the car?

The church was right next to the pub and they almost drove right past it but Sean managed to find a space and he pulled the car into it. Lan opened the car door and got out immediately. Sean followed him, locking the car and then walking with him to the gate that led into the church grounds. There was a stone porch in front of the main door and they took shelter there from the persistent rain which had now set in, probably for the rest of the day by the look of the dark clouds covering the sky.

The door was old and had been repaired at some stage but whether it dated as far back as the battle Lan couldn't tell. 

“So, can you feel anything?” Sean asked.

“Only water trickling down my neck.”

“Do you want to see if we can go inside?”

“Sure.”

Sean grasped the handle and the latch lifted with a metallic clack and then the door swung open. Sean went inside first and, feeling slightly apprehensive, Lan followed.

His first impression was that the church was huge with an ornately carved screen behind the altar. The roof had huge, wooden beams with angels carved into them midway across the span. The wood was dark with age so some of it might well have survived from the seventeenth century. Even though there were large windows situated along both sides of the church, the dull afternoon meant that there were large areas of the building which were difficult to see.

Lan shivered and Sean instantly turned to look at him. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s a bit chilly in here, isn’t it? I wouldn’t like to have to sit through a service in the winter.”

There was a low stone ledge with a carved effigy on it against one of the exterior walls and Lan walked over to it to get a closer look. The man was wearing robes so he might have been a priest but there was no inscription or anything else to confirm it. Lan spun around intending to call Sean’s attention to it, but as he turned the scene changed into what he imagined Hell must look like. 

The noise was awful with screams of pain echoing around the stone walls. There were men everywhere, some were covered in blood with rags wrapped around wounds, others were lying on pews and the floor where they were being tended to by their fellows, most of whom didn’t look to be in any better condition. The heat and smell were appalling and Lan knew with certainty that some of the wounded would be dead before morning.

“Sean!” Lan looked around frantically for his lover but he was nowhere to be seen.

Moving between the men towards the area where he had last seen Sean, Lan realised that the interior of the church was subtly different. The wooden screen behind the altar was now gone and the walls of the church seemed much rougher. The glass in the windows was also much poorer quality, having a yellowish tinge but now instead of the dull clouds, sun was streaming through the windows.

The prisoners, he knew with some mysterious certainty that was what they were, didn’t seem to notice him, even though he passed close by. When he looked down he was still wearing his normal clothes, jeans, a sweatshirt and a dark jacket whereas the other men were all wearing very rough clothes; ill-fitting trousers and grubby, baggy linen shirts.

One figure stood in silhouette in front of a window, from the build and body shape Lan thought it was Sean until he saw the man was wearing the same type of clothing as everyone else. It was only then that Lan noticed he was talking to another figure with much darker, curly hair. The first man had his hands on the smaller one’s shoulders and seemed to be talking very seriously to him. The slighter figure shrugged off his hands and turned so that he was facing Lan. His whole body language told Lan that the youngster was listening to something he didn’t want to hear. 

Inexorably, Lan lifted his gaze until he could see the young man’s face. He felt as though he’d been punched. The air left his lungs and he staggered, nearly falling over. The face he could see was identical to the one that appeared in his mother’s family pictures. He was looking at the splitting image of his teenage self.

His legs gave way and he sank down onto his knees and closed his eyes, willing the vision to go away.

The next thing Lan was aware of was Sean crouched next to him with his arms around his shoulders.

“Lan, what’s going on?” Sean shook him. “Lan, for God’s sake talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay.”

That was greeted with a disbelieving snort.

“No, really, I’m fine now.”

“Okay, you think you can stand up?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

It was easier said than done but once he was back on his feet, Lan started to feel a strong sense of urgency to leave the church.

“We need to go outside.”

“Why? It’s still raining. Surely you’ll be better off in the dry?”

“Trust me please, Sean, I’ll explain everything once we’re back in the car.”

It took more of Sean’s help than he liked to get back to the car. Once they were inside and Sean had started the engine to de-mist the windows and warm them up a bit Lan was feeling less shaky.

Without a word Sean put the car into gear and started to drive. He only drove for a couple of minutes before pulling into the car park behind The Sedgemoor Inn.

“Why have we stopped? I thought we were going home.”

“You need a drink and some food before we go anywhere. I’d also like to know what you saw in the church.”

Lan followed Sean into the pub, fortunately his legs were back to normal so he didn’t embarrass himself by having to be helped inside.

Sean went to the bar while Lan found some corner seats where they could talk and not be disturbed or overheard.

Sean came back with a menu, a brandy for Lan and a shandy for himself. 

Lan took a sip of the brandy and launched into his explanation of what had happened to him.

Sean listened in silence and then asked, “Why the church? Surely you would have been more likely to see scenes like that on a battlefield?”

“From what I read in Daphne’s leaflet, the church was used to hold prisoners after the battle. About five hundred men were herded in there and left overnight with no water or food. Nearly eighty of them were wounded and five of those were dead by the time the King’s men came to take them away in the morning.”

“It must have been awful to witness.”

Lan nodded and took another drink. “It was, I could see, smell and hear everything. But that’s not the thing that really got to me.”

Where they were sitting no one could see them clearly so Sean took his hand and squeezed it. “Tell me.”

“Before I realised it was a vision, I was trying to find you.”

“Okay.”

“There was a man, standing near the altar, the sun was behind him so his features were difficult to see but he was the right size and shape; I thought it was you until I realised his clothes were wrong. He was dressed in a shirt and trousers with boots that came up to his knees.” Lan took a deep breath, “He was talking to another man, a boy really, not fully grown. The boy turned around and I knew it was Thomas.”

“Thomas?”

“Thomas Hobbes, my eight times grandfather. According to the family bible, he was born in 1670 so he must have been only fifteen or sixteen. He fought in the battle, Sean, and was captured. I’ve no idea how he ended up in America a few years later but he was here during the battle and probably took part in it. I think that’s how he crossed paths with Fitzwalter.”

“How can you be sure it was Thomas? There aren’t any pictures of him.”

“I know it was him, Sean, because he looked exactly like I used to when I was a teenager. It was like looking in a fucking mirror!” Lan knew his voice was getting louder and made an effort to control himself.

“Shit!”

“Yeah.” Lan drank some more brandy.

“Do you know who the other man was?”

“No.” Lan shook his head. “But from the way he was talking to Thomas, they knew each other pretty well.”

Sean gestured at his empty glass. “Do you want another?”

“No, I’d just like to go home, please.” Maybe the normality there would help him feel less out of place. It was an odd sensation but one he didn’t have the words to describe.

Lan breathed a sigh of relief when they were in the car and heading away from the village.

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes.”

“As soon as we get home, I’m going to ring Bodie and get him to do some more checking. We seem to be getting closer to solving the mystery which is good.”

“Yeah, well that’s just as well, what with this year being the one when the ghost is stronger than he has been for a hundred years.” 

“What!”

As soon as the words left his mouth Lan wanted to bite his tongue. He deliberately hadn’t told Sean or anyone else the words Fitzwalter had whispered to him last Halloween, when he had escaped him once again. Damn! That meant his brain must be fuzzier than he thought.

“It’s nothing.”

“Like fuck it is. Explain to me what you’re talking about.”

Lan squirmed uncomfortably before saying, “Last year, when we were leaving the hospital, he spoke to me.”

“I didn’t hear him.”

“I got the feeling the words were meant only for me.”

“What did he say?”

“I don’t remember exactly but it was his usual threat, you know that I wouldn’t escape him for ever. Then he said that this year he would be his strongest for a century.”

“Shit! The bastard! We’ve got to do something before October.”

“We will, Sean. We will.” Lan reached over and squeezed Sean’s shoulder. He had to hold onto the belief that they would solve this mystery.


	3. 7th July 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The 300th anniversary of the Battle of Sedgemoor takes place on 6th July 1985 and is commemorated with a recreation of the battle. Sean and Lan go to watch which results in another vision for Lan and further understanding of the part Thomas Hobbes, Lan's ancestor, played in it.

Sean woke with a start, and quickly became aware that beside him, Lan was tossing and turning but apparently still asleep. Concerned not to wake him abruptly, Sean gathered the other man into his arms, hoping that he would either settle down or wake. Neither happened, instead Lan thrashed about even more, at the same time, shouting out, “No! Let me go! Leave me alone! Don’t!”

Shocked, Sean released his hold and Lan fell back onto the bed with a thump, waking himself in the process. As soon as Sean could see that Lan was fully aware, he drew him back into his embrace, holding him close until he calmed down.

When he finally felt his lover’s heart rate approach normal, Sean asked, “What happened?”

Burying his face against Sean chest Lan muttered, “I had a bad dream.”

Worried Sean said, “Was it anything to do with what happened this afternoon?”

“Jesus, Sean. Please don’t fuss. I’m fine.”

Slightly annoyed that Lan could dismiss his concern as fussing, Sean said, “You weren’t fine earlier and you certainly weren’t fine just now. I’m sorry you think I’m fussing but you’ve never had one of your visions when you weren’t either hurt or stressed. Today you were neither.”

Lan, turned slightly so that his head was now resting against Sean’s shoulder and his arm was lying across Sean’s stomach. “I know. I’m sorry, I’m embarrassed about being scared by a dream.”

Sean stroked his lover’s hair, loving the sensation of the silky texture running through his fingers. He was pleased that since they’d left the Met, Lan had only had his hair cut a couple of times and it was now longer than it had ever been before. “Hey this is me you’re talking to. You saw me not long ago, up to my knees in pig shit looking for the ring I dropped. What could be more embarrassing than that?”

“Yeah, you did look a bit daft.”

Shifting a little, Sean said, “You think you can go back to sleep now or shall I get up and make a cuppa?”

“Nah, I think I’ll be okay to go back to sleep.” He paused for a beat, “Will you hold me?”

“Course, love. For as long as you need.”

“Did I ever tell you how lucky I am? I’ve got the most amazing boyfriend who’s there whenever I need him?” Lan mumbled.

Sean could tell that he was already drowsy again. “Maybe I ought to meet this boyfriend and tell him to keep his hands off. You’re mine.”

Lan snorted, “I love it when you get all possessive. You don’t have to worry. I love you, Sean.”

“Love you too, Lan.”

Sean waited until he was sure that Lan was asleep before letting his mind wander back over what had happened earlier that day. They had returned to Westonzoyland with Daphne to watch a re-enactment organised to commemorate the three hundredth anniversary of the Battle of Sedgemoor. The display had only been going on for half an hour when Lan had started shivering and looking around as though he was trying to find someone. 

Daphne hadn’t noticed, but to someone who knew Lan as well as Sean, his distress was obvious. Looking into his eyes Sean could tell that Lan wasn’t seeing anything taking place in the present. He’d be willing to bet every penny he had that somehow Lan was watching the real battle, not the slightly amateur re-creation happening on waste ground in a disused wartime airfield. Daphne had told them that the nearby battle site was considered a mass grave and, out of respect, the land was left untouched.

Before he fell asleep, Sean promised himself that tomorrow he’d get Lan to tell him exactly what he had seen in both his vision and the dream. Even though Bodie had found out which regiment Percy Kirke commanded, and Daphne had managed to get copies of the baptismal records of Thomas and several brothers and sisters, they were not really any closer to working out what had happened between Thomas and Fitzwalter and how to prevent the ghost from coming after Lan again this year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On Monday morning, Sean woke and was surprised to find himself alone under the covers. He was usually the one who got up first, Lan being much more difficult to persuade out of bed. The door to the en-suite bathroom was open which meant that Lan wasn’t there either. A bit concerned Sean got out of bed, pulled on a pair of boxers and went in search of his missing partner. He breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the kitchen to find Lan dressed in his usual smart trousers and short sleeved shirt, a mug of coffee in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. He glanced up when he heard the door open and greeted Sean with a megawatt smile, “Hey, lover.”

Running a hand through his hair Sean said, “Morning.” Thinking that he must have overslept and wondering why Lan had let him, he looked around at the clock. It was only eight o’clock. “What’s going on? You’re not usually so early.”

“Yeah well, Daphne’s got me going round to Muriel’s place again. Apparently she’s having problems with the lock on her back door and can’t afford to get a locksmith in so I said I’d take a look. If I can’t sort the problem I’ll have a word with Eric and see if he can fix it at a reasonable price.”

“We must all be mad, the time we spend with her,” Sean grumbled, upset at missing his morning cuddle.

“Yeah, I know but I hope someone would look out for my gran in a similar situation.” Lan crammed the last of his toast into his mouth and washed it down with the rest of the coffee. “Okay, I’m off. I’ll see you later in the office?”

Sean walked over and, as Lan stood, pulled him into his arms, “You forgetting something?”

Lan clasped his hands around Sean’s waist and then let his hands wander lower until he was cupping Sean’s arse. He shook his head. “Nah, don’t think so.”

Turning his head slightly Sean ducked his head a little and kissed Lan, controlling the kiss and pushing his tongue into his lover’s mouth. When he finally released him, Lan was gasping for breath.

“That’s just a reminder. And don’t think you’ve wriggled out of talking to me about your bad dreams over the weekend and what you saw during the battle re-creation.”

“I saw the battle, that’s all.”

“Don’t bullshit me, love. I’ve been with you through a few of these visions in the past five years and the one on Saturday wasn’t like the others. If it’s nothing then talking it through is not going to hurt.”

“Okay, we’ll talk later.”

“Promise?”

“Jesus!” Lan snorted with laughter, “What are you? Five?”

“No, I’m not but I love you and besides, you know this psychic stuff always gives me the creeps.”

“Okay, we’ll talk later. Maybe if we are not too busy this afternoon we can go and get a pint somewhere outside the city and have a talk there.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four o’clock found them sitting outside a pub a few miles outside Bristol, a pint of local Arkell’s bitter in front of each of them. They sat in silence for a few minutes enjoying the late afternoon sunshine until Sean broached the subject again.

“Okay, so tell me what happened on Saturday.”

For a moment Sean thought Lan was going to argue but finally his shoulders slumped and he ducked his head before beginning. “Most of the time what I see is pretty vague and has happened in the previous few months. But I’m only ever a spectator, I never get involved.”

Sean nodded. “Yeah, I know that.”

“So, on Saturday it was different. I wasn’t a spectator, I was actually part of the vision and I was standing in the middle of the battlefield!” Lan’s fingers closed tightly on the glass he held.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure. I saw a group of rebels being butchered by a company of King’s soldiers wearing red coats with green trimmings. I saw their blood and their insides spilling over their hands when they were slashed with swords or skewered on pikes.” 

His voice had risen as he was talking and Sean reached over resting his fingers on Lan’s hand in an effort to calm him. “Okay. I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to doubt you.”

“I’ve seen victims of violence before but this was different. It was a slaughter and the whole thing was over in just about five hours, just the way Daphne had described it.”

Pausing for a moment Sean said, “Right let’s leave that aside for a minute. Your dreams, were they related?”

“Yes, because in the same way as in the vision I had on the battlefield, I was involved. In my dream I was a soldier, like Thomas, and some of those redcoats were coming after me! I could feel their hands on me, holding me still while one of the others drew back his sword. He was going to gut me and leave me there to die slowly. I remember pleading with him to let me go but he just laughed. He said something about one less rebel to rot in prison or swing at the end of a rope. I felt so helpless. I was going to die and there was nothing I could do to stop them.”

“But your visions are wrong because somehow Thomas escaped them. From the information your mum gave us we know he ended up in America.”

“I know, but I’ve no idea how or why he went there.”

Seeing Lan so tense and exhausted, Sean tried to take the pressure off a little. Stretching his hands over his head he looked around the garden. The tables were still pretty empty even though it was a warm evening. “Hey, you want to get something to eat here before we go home?”

“Why not? It’ll save us cooking,” Lan agreed, his relief at the change of topic palpable.

“Okay, I’ll go get the menu.” Sean pointed at Lan’s drink, “You up for another pint?”

“Nah, get me a half of shandy or something then I’ll drive us home.”

Sean stood and then leaned down so that his mouth was close to Lan’s ear, not that anyone would have been close enough to overhear, “Staying sober huh? You got plans for later?”

Lan’s look was pure lust and had Sean squirming when he said, “I’ve always got plans for you, lover.”

Later that night in bed Sean lay sleepless. Which was surprising because when they’d got home earlier Lan had attacked him, dragging him into the bedroom, pulling off his clothes and then teasing him to the verge of orgasm several times before plunging deep into his body and fucking him into oblivion. Sean had loved every minute of it but knowing Lan as well as he did, realised that he’d done it to avoid talking further about his recent dreams and visions.

He was still lying there awake when Lan began tossing restlessly, obviously in the throes of yet another nightmare. Carefully Sean pulled him into his arms and held him hoping he would settle again.


	4. 9th July 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone from their past makes contact and it remains to be seen what effect it might have on their lives.

**Two days later**  
There was no sign of Lan’s car in the driveway when Sean arrived home from work which meant he was still with the client he had gone off to see that afternoon. Once inside, Sean headed upstairs to change, he wriggled his shoulders uncomfortably. He ought to have a shower first, then he’d go and grab a beer from the fridge and drink it in the garden. So, pulling off the smarter clothes he wore for work he hung up his suit trousers before heading into the bathroom.

He let the water run for a few minutes and then stepped into the cubicle, luxuriating in the sensation of warm water running over his body. God he was tired, Lan’s sleep was still disturbed and as a result they were both getting tetchy and short with each other.

The bathroom had been the first room they renovated in the house and the installation of the full size shower cubicle had been a luxury they had never regretted. He had barely had time to pour shampoo on his hand when he heard someone come into the room. Before he had time to worry, a familiar voice said, “It’s okay, Sean, it’s only me.”

Sean’s body reacted instinctively to his lover’s voice, so he offered, “Hey, you wanna join me?”

“God, yeah.”

In seconds a warm, wet body was pressed against his. “Not that I’m objecting but you seem to be very pleased to see me.” 

Lips fastened onto his collar bone and he heard Lan mumble, “If you’d had the afternoon I’ve just had you’d want to be shagged until you couldn’t stand.”

Before returning the oral exploration Sean smiled. “Oh yeah, you had an appointment at St Ursula’s didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Lan pulled back a second and frowned, “Those bloody sixth form girls are going to be the death of me. I swear they get worse every time I go there.”

Sean swiped his tongue over Lan’s ear, eliciting a moan. “What did they want this time?”

“The head wanted to know about a security system for the main building, she thinks there have been people getting into the building at night," Lan answered breathlessly as Sean turned his attention to his neck and shoulder, sucking on the damp skin until he knew he would leave a mark. “Okay, no more talking and more fucking.”

Lan bucked against him and Sean felt their cocks slide against each other. “What do you want?” He moved his attention to the front of Lan’s throat as his lover lifted his head to allow Sean better access.

“Jesus, Sean, I want you to fuck me against the wall and make me see stars.”

Grabbing the bottle of conditioner that Lan used, Sean poured some into his hand, rubbing it over his fingers. Reaching behind Lan he slid two fingers into his lover’s arse. They’d been together long enough for Sean to know just how much Lan could take. So after only minimal prep, Sean lifted Lan, bracing his back against the wall and sank his cock into the soft velvet heat. Lan clasped his arms around Sean’s neck and his legs around his waist to help support his weight.

Waiting for Lan to give the signal for him to move, Sean feasted his eyes on his lover. He was such a beautiful sight like this, his mouth slightly open as he panted through the burn of being breeched, with water running down over his head and face. When their eyes met, Sean could see hunger and desire blazing there. 

He rolled his hips slightly and Lan gasped, “More. That’s good.”

Moving faster now, Sean began to pound into the other man, using as much force as he could in the awkward position. Lan writhed impatiently on his cock, tightening his internal muscles to increase the friction but they both needed more.

Finally Sean pulled out and set Lan down, he spoke rapidly. “Turn around, I want to touch you while I fuck you.” 

Nodding Lan turned his back and braced himself against the wall, his hands held at shoulder height. Immediately Sean slid back inside him, pushing in as deeply as possible. “Jesus, that’s better," he moaned. Reaching round he grabbed Lan’s cock, pulling it roughly in time with his thrusts. 

Lan’s hand joined his and by synchronising their movements it didn’t take very long for their pleasure to spiral out of control. With a muffled yell, Lan came over their joined hands. Sean kept going through the aftershocks, drawing out Lan’s orgasm until he was sobbing with pleasure. Then and only then, Sean let himself go, burying his cock in his lover’s body, until his balls were flush against Lan’s arse and he pumped his seed into the welcoming heat. He stayed that way, feeling Lan’s passage contract around his softening cock until the water began to turn cold.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Lan got down to the kitchen, Sean had opened a bottle of wine and poured two glasses. He passed one to Lan and said, “Pasta okay?”

Realising that he was very hungry Lan nodded, “Yeah. Sounds good. You want me to do anything?”

“Nah, it’s okay. We’ve got frozen sauce so it won’t take long.”

“Great, I’m starving.”

Busying himself with the pots and pans, Sean said, “So what happened at St Ursula’s to get you so wound up?”

“Bloody females. They’re worse than the blokes sometimes. It must be something to do with being at an all-girls school. I was working out what sort of alarm system they needed to cover just the main offices when the bell rang for lesson change. Before I knew it the corridor outside the offices was packed. I waited for them to get to where they were going and you won’t believe the suggestions some of the older ones made as they walked past. One even said that I should meet her in the room where they store the gym equipment. She said she’d show me just how flexible she was.”

“Yeah, well you’re young and good looking.”

“Shit, Sean I’m not that young any more, I’m thirty. None of them are over eighteen!”

“Yeah, but you look younger and let’s face it, cooped up all day with not a man in sight is going to make them get carried away when they see one.”

“Jesus. Maybe I should just tell them I prefer men.”

Sean threw some dried pasta into boiling water and stirred it around, “I wouldn’t do that or we’ll lose the contract at St Ursula’s. You know what the bible says…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**30th July 1985**  
Three weeks later, Sean was sitting in the kitchen with Lan while he cooked dinner. He was glancing at the paper every now and again but most of the time he was watching what his lover was doing. Lan had always been the better cook and now he was frying mushrooms, while in another pan chips were bubbling away in hot oil. Under the grill there were two large steaks and some halved tomatoes. Sean’s mouth was watering as he anticipated his dinner when the phone rang.

“Fuck, who’s that?” He stood and headed over to the phone.

“Two minutes,” Lan warned Sean as he picked up the receiver. 

Waving his hand to show he’d heard Sean said, “Hello.”

“Sean, it’s Jack Cartwright.”

“Jack.” Sean responded while wondering what his ex-boss from the Sweeney wanted.

“Have you got some time to talk?” 

Sean looked over to where Lan was getting the plates ready. “We’re just about to eat. Can I call you back in half an hour?”

“Sure thing. It’s a new number; have you got something to write on?”

Sean fumbled around for a notepad and pen and took down the number and, after reading it back to Jack, promised to call him as soon as they finished eating.

Lan put the filled plates on the table while Sean collected two beers from the fridge. They ate in silence for a few minutes.

“The steak’s really good,” Sean mumbled through a mouthful.

“Thanks. Was that Jack Cartwright? What did he want?”

Sean shrugged more interested in his dinner for the moment. “Don’t know, he didn’t say. I’ll find out when I phone him back.”

The rest of the meal passed in silence and Sean couldn’t help but remember that Lan had mentioned that he thought Jack was really bi and fancied Sean some time ago. He couldn’t see it himself, but he wasn’t going to discount Lan’s feelings without due consideration.

As soon as Sean had finished eating, Lan picked up his plate and took it over to the sink. “Hey, you cooked, it’s my turn to wash up.”

“It’s okay. You need to phone Jack.”

“He can wait.”

In the end it was over an hour later when Sean finally dialled Jack’s number.

It rang several times before Jack answered.

“It’s Sean.”

“Yeah thanks for calling me back. So how are you both doing?”

“Fine. We’ve got some regular clients now and we’re keeping busy.”

“Good. What are the clubs like in Bristol? Do you get the chance to go out much?”

“Not much, you know that’s not really our thing. We both prefer a good pint in a country boozer.”

They made small talk for several more minutes and as the conversation went on, Sean got the distinct impression that Jack hadn’t really rung to ask how they were getting on and whether they frequented the local gay bars. There was something else behind the phone call and the longer Jack didn’t say why he was really calling the more annoyed Sean became.

Finally, he'd had enough. “Okay, Jack, cut the crap, why have you phoned us?”

There was a moment of silence before Jack gave an uncomfortable laugh. “I forgot how good your copper’s instincts are.”

“I’m not a copper now, so tell me the real reason you rang.”

Sean could see that Lan had stopped reading and was watching him.

“It’s a long story and it can’t go any further than you and Lan for the moment.”

Not in a mood to be placatory, Sean said, “Then you’d better start telling the story or we’ll be here all bloody night.”

“I’m being seconded to Avon and Somerset. They want me there to lead an investigation.”

“Into what? We’ve not heard any rumours of anything big going on.”

“I’d rather not talk about it over the phone.”

“So why are you calling us if you can’t say anything?”

“This has all happened in a bit of a rush and I wondered if I could stay with you guys for a couple of days until I can find a flat to rent.”

“I’ll need to talk to Lan about it and he’s in the shower, can I ring you back tomorrow?” Sean ignored the look Lan gave him and prayed he wouldn’t give away the lie he’d told.

“Okay. I’d appreciate it. I’m sorry to dump this on you but it is crucial that I get there quickly. Part of this investigation goes to very high places.”

“Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow morning before we go to work.”

As soon as Sean put the phone down Lan burst out, “What the fuck was that all about?”

“Jack is being seconded here to work with Avon and Somerset police. He’ll explain all about it when he gets here.”

“Here?”

“Yeah, he’s asked if he could stay with us for a couple of days until he can make his own arrangements. I told him… Well you heard what I said. So are you okay with him staying for a couple of days?”

Sean saw a look of concern flash across Lan’s face but he nodded. “I suppose so.”

It was on the tip of Sean’s tongue to push the issue and try to find out what was really bothering him about Jack.

“I’ll call him now; it’ll save time in the morning.”

“Okay.” Lan sounded distant and Sean couldn’t help feeling there was something he wasn’t saying. Surely he wasn’t that unsure of Sean’s feelings for him, not after all they had been through together? Sean was Lan’s and nothing could change that.


	5. Thursday 1st August 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack reveals why he is in Bristol

As Lan drove towards the house he saw a strange car parked outside with someone sitting inside. His copper’s instincts kicked in and instead of stopping behind it he drove slowly past, checking the driver’s face. When he saw that it was Jack, he pulled over in front of his car and, turning off the engine, got out.

“Jack.”

Cartwright opened the car door and got out, offering Lan his hand. “Good to see you, Lan, you’re looking well.”

Lan shrugged off the compliment. He was looking tired, he knew that. Collecting the bags of shopping he’d picked up on the way home, he started up the path. “Sean should be here soon, he had an errand on the way home.”

He put the bags down by the front door and fished in his pocket for the keys. Opening the door, he bent down to pick up the groceries again but Jack beat him to it. 

“No, it’s okay, I’ve got these.”

He followed Lan into the house. “Where shall I put them.”

“If you put them in the kitchen,” Lan waved towards the door, “I’ll put them away.”

Lan hung his jacket over the banister at the end of the stairs and then they both went into the kitchen. Lan said, “Do you want tea or a beer?”

“A beer would be good.”

Lan got two from the fridge and levered off the caps, handing one to Jack.

Jack took a large gulp and said, “I know I owe you and Sean an explanation but do you mind if I wait until he gets home to tell you both what’s going on?”

Lan shrugged. “Sure. Did you drive down today?”

“Yeah, I left about midday. The traffic wasn’t too bad.”

“You’re lucky it wasn’t a Friday, the motorways are usually horrible during the summer. Mind you it was pretty bad during the festival at Glastonbury in June. It rained non-stop and the traffic seemed to snarl up everywhere.”

Lan began to put the groceries away and while he did so he studied Jack trying to work out exactly what made him so uneasy about the man. Jack looked good in a faded pair of jeans and navy t-shirt, and his dark blond hair was longer, touching his collar. Lan couldn’t help but appreciate the view. If anything though, it only convinced him that Jack wasn’t completely straight. Lan would bet his pension that Jack was bi.

With the groceries away, Lan asked, “Do you want to bring your bag in and I’ll show you the spare room?”

Jack drained his beer and nodded. “Sure.”

When he came back with a medium sized holdall, Lan pointed upstairs. “Our room is the one that overlooks the front. The room at the back is yours and the bathroom is the door at the top of the stairs. The third bedroom is a bit small so we mostly use it for storage.”

Lan led Jack upstairs and pushed open the door for the room he would be using. “Are you going to be okay for a few minutes? I really need a shower.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Help yourself to another beer if you want.”

Leaving Jack to help himself to beer or anything else he wanted, Lan showered quickly, wanting to be out and dressed before Sean got home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lan and Jack were sitting in the garden and on their second beers when Sean walked through the door. He passed Lan, resting his hand on his shoulder and giving it a light squeeze before walking over to Jack to shake his hand.

“Jack, it's good to see you.”

“You too, Sean. You're looking good, being with Lan must agree with you.”

Sean turned and looked at him, and Lan could see the love there.

“It does, I've never been happier.”

“You want a beer, Sean?” Lan asked.

“You're a life saver. Tell you what, I'll nip upstairs and get changed and be down in next to no time.”

“Great, I can fill you both in on why I'm here, and then I'll treat you both to dinner,” Jack suggested.

“Okay, I'll be down in five minutes.”

Lan followed Sean into the house ostensibly to collect the beer. But before Sean could leave the kitchen, Lan grabbed his hand and pulled Sean towards him. Once they were face to face, Lan invaded Sean's personal space, kissing him. When Sean opened his mouth, probably to comment on Lan's unusual behaviour he allowed his tongue to explore Sean's mouth, kissing him long and deeply.

As Lan had expected, Sean pulled him in closer so that their cocks were aligned. The pressure was heavenly and Lan was about to suggest that he helped Sean get changed upstairs when Sean pushed him to arm’s length.

“What have I done to get a welcome like that?”

“Nothing. I wanted to kiss you, that's all.”

Sean pulled him back in for a soft and regrettably chaste kiss. “I'm going to have to resist now because I really want to know why Jack is in Bristol but I may well take you up on what comes next later on.”

“I'd like that.”

With a quick caress of Lan's arse, Sean turned and left the room.

Grabbing another bottle out of the fridge, Lan headed back into the garden to make polite conversation with Jack until Sean got back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally they were all three gathered around the garden table with beer and crisps.

Sean took another mouthful of his beer before saying, “Okay, Jack, tell us who you’ve pissed off to be seconded to Avon and Somerset. It’s not exactly the big time down here.”

“I’ve been transferred to cover a serial killer case.”

“Serial killer? Here? Why haven’t we heard anything about it?” Sean asked.

“Because it’s being kept quiet.”

“To avoid panic?” Lan wanted to know.

“No, to avoid bad publicity for the Met.”

“What?”

“The killer has been preying on gay men but the Met haven’t been putting themselves out to find them.”

Lan crossed his arms and sat back with a huff. “Why does that not surprise me? The homophobic bastards have probably not even bothered to set up an investigation.”

“It’s not quite that bad,” Jack answered. “Part of the problem has been that the ones who we think have disappeared have recently split up from their boyfriends so in most cases they’ve not even been reported missing. It was only when some difficult questions were raised in government that we started looking into it.”

“Who asked questions?” Sean asked.

“Have you heard of the LLGS?”

Sean shook his head. "No.”

“It’s the London Lesbian and Gay Switchboard,” Lan stated. “They’ve been around for about ten years now. They started out in Kings Cross; I used to know a few of the people who volunteered with them.”

“Yeah, well the LLGS were the ones to first add things up and make the suggestion of a serial killer. It must have been about a year ago, they had started getting calls from men whose ex-partners had vanished in the London area. Someone there must have been a fan of detective novels because he began to put two and two together and dig out more information. He found a similar trend in Portsmouth the year before and Plymouth the year before that. But when he tried to hand the information over to us, the idiot he spoke to brushed him off. Of course Jake –”

“Jake? Is that Jake Williams?” Lan butted in.

“Do you know him?” Sean said.

“I did. We used to go for a drink sometimes when I worked around Kings Cross but I haven’t seen him in six or seven years. He was one of the few people who knew I was gay back then. Being able to talk to him helped me a lot.”

“Well, he’s lucky that he has friends in high places. Predictably the Met tried to sweep the whole thing under the carpet but Jake wouldn’t let it go and began to make a nuisance of himself; talking to the press and his MP, getting him to raise questions in the house. The Met would still have tried to avoid doing anything but a young high flyer in one of the ministries disappeared at about the same time as Jake was kicking up a storm. The Commissioner was called to Downing Street and instructed to start an investigation and to liaise with other forces. From information received it appears our killer has moved his centre of operations to Bristol.”

“How many men are missing?” Lan sat forward in his seat and stared at Jack.

“Three from this area and maybe twenty in total as far as we can tell. I’ve been collating information for two months now and that might be an under estimate but those are the ones we’re sure of.”

“No bodies?” Sean snapped out the question.

“No.” Jack sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. “And that’s the biggest problem. Without a body we don’t know for sure that someone is missing or even dead.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Well, a couple of possibles but we only found the skeletons which we identified from their dental records. Both the men we found were known to be gay and recently split from partners but there was no way to determine the cause of death. The only way we’re going to be able to stop this one is to catch him red-handed.”

“Any suspects? And how can you be sure it’s only one man?”

“No. And we can’t be sure right now. We’ve tried looking at people moving from one place to another in line with the disappearances but we are drowning in paperwork and there are too many instances when it could be coincidence.”

“So why you? Surely they didn’t expect us to help you?”

“No, not really.” Jack shuffled his feet awkwardly and Sean wondered what he wasn’t saying.

Casually Sean said, “So you’re here until you solve the case? Lorraine must be really pissed off because I know she didn’t like you being away from home.”

Jack shrugged resignedly. “Ah, well, that’s the real reason they sent me down here, well one of them anyway. They don’t know everything.”

“I think you’re going to have to explain a bit more, mate. I’m not sure what you’re trying to say,” Sean told him.

“Lorraine and I have split up. That’s the bit they know about. Things have been a bit nasty so I asked for the job to get some time away from London.”

“Okay. So what don’t they know? And I take it this is why you think you can solve this case.”

“Part of the reason Lorraine is so pissed off is that I’ve told her I’m bi and that I still fancy men.”

One word Jack had said echoed around in Sean’s head and he finally exploded, “Still? What the fuck do you mean still? You’re going to have to run that one past me again.”

“A long time ago, I had male lovers as well as female. I was always discreet but then, when I got promoted to DS and met Lorraine I knew I had to stop seeing men if I wanted to go further in the force.”

“So while we were being outed and forced to resign, you didn’t say anything to back us up? Jesus, Jack I thought you were my friend.”

“I was your friend, Sean and hope I still am. Owning up to having had male lovers wasn’t going to make any difference; all that would have happened was that I would have been forced to resign too, without a pension and with a wife and two kids to support.”

Sean slammed his beer bottle down on the table and jumped to his feet. “But –”

“He’s right.” Lan’s voice cut through Sean’s anger like a hot knife through butter.

“What?”

“He’s right. Getting kicked out like us would have served no useful purpose. But now that you and Lorraine have split, I’m guessing you’ve done something risky and the powers that be are wary. So in the inimitable way the Met have for covering themselves, they have sent you down to work this case and I suspect they are hoping you will either get caught with your dick out with another man or actually solve the case. Either way they are covered because they can point to the fact that they sent a sympathetic Chief Inspector down to take charge.” 

Lan spoke quietly but emphatically and Sean soon realised he was right. In some ways Jack had been screwed over as much as they had but it only went someway to reducing his anger towards his ex-boss. During the three months he and Lan had been suspended and waiting for the outcome of the Adams case, it would have made so much difference to know that Jack understood intimately some of what had motivated them.

“Lan’s pretty much hit the nail in the head. After the split I was stupid and did some daft things which started a couple of rumours. I think the Assistant Commissioner’s quote when he picked me for this job was along the lines of it takes one to know one.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack used the bathroom and brushed his teeth before heading back to the room he was using. As he stripped off his clothes and pulled on a pair of loose pyjama bottoms he reflected that he got off a lot lighter than perhaps he deserved. He understood and had expected Sean’s anger, what he hadn’t anticipated was the way Lando had defended him.

He pulled back the duvet and sheet and got himself comfortable in the double bed. Realising he was going to be too warm, he got up and opened the window before taking the duvet off and just keeping the sheet. 

Picking up his book from the bedside table, he tried to focus on the words but instead he kept thinking about Sean and Lando’s relationship. People who didn’t know them would see the two of them together and assume that Sean was the dominant partner. He was bigger, older and generally louder than Lando. But this evening, not for the first time, Jack had seen the way Lando could stop Sean mid rant with a few, well chosen, words. Having seen that, it spoke volumes about the strength and equality of their bond.

Not wanting to look at his feelings about that too closely, Jack put his book down and reached over to turn out the light. He lay there for a few minutes appreciating the absence of traffic noise compared to the constant drone he heard in North London. As his hearing became more attuned, he could hear the murmur of voices from the room next to his. He couldn’t hear the words but occasionally he thought he could make out the sounds of laughter.

When it grew quiet in the next room, he thought they had gone to sleep. But then, instead of voices he heard a regular, repetitive noise of a bed frame squeaking. 

Oh Christ they were fucking!

Closing his eyes Jack tried to ignore the sound but it was impossible. Unable to control his thoughts, they drifted and he found himself trying to visualise exactly what could be happening in the next room. In the past he’d automatically assumed that Sean would be the one fucking Lando but now, having seen the way they behaved around each other, he recognised it could just as easily be Lando fucking Sean.

The idea that Sean could be on his knees, with Lando taking him from behind, made his cock, which was already half hard, swell fully. He was going to have to do something or he’d never get to sleep. A cold shower didn’t appeal, so pushing his pyjama bottoms down enough to free his cock, Jack took himself in hand. After two strokes pre-come was leaking down his shaft and he used it to lubricate his movements. As his hand moved faster, he added a slight twist at the top of each stroke and realised that he was matching his movements to the regular sounds coming from the other room.

As Jack bit down on his other fist to keep from crying out as he came, could have sworn he heard sounds of completion coming through the wall.

Spent, he managed to grab his t-shirt from the floor and clean himself up. What had just happened wasn’t something he wanted to think on at all. Sean and Lando were together and had been for a long time. They’d proved the strength of their relationship by letting that bastard Adams reveal that they were lovers rather than submitting to his blackmail attempts.

Jack, threw the sticky t-shirt on the floor and closed his eyes, he needed to sleep so that he could start work in the morning. One of the first things he needed to do was find somewhere to stay. Being this close to Sean and seeing and hearing him and Lando together made him feel uncomfortable. It was still a long time before sleep found him.


	6. Saturday 28th September 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween is drawing closer and Lan's nightmares are increasing in frequency. Bodie and Doyle visit with a little more news about Fitzwalter.

Sean carried three pints back from the bar, the glasses held together in a triangle between his hands. He knew Doyle was following him with the fourth pint and several bags of crisps.

When Sean reached the table they’d found outside the Three Bells pub, Lan ignored him and carried on scribbling in a notebook as Bodie spoke.

Sean put the glasses down carefully, to avoid dripping beer on Lan’s pad. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’m writing all the information down that we’ve found about Fitzwalter and his involvement in the battle. Bodie has found out some new stuff from a friend of his at the Imperial War Museum.”

Sliding onto the bench seat next to Lan Sean tried to read what he’d written but couldn’t really make it out. “Okay, what have you got?”

Lan spoke quickly. “Fitzwalter’s commanding officer, Percy Kirke was considered for the role of Governor of New England, which included Salem in Massachusetts where Thomas’s son, also called Thomas was born.”

“You think there’s a connection?”

“Not really, because Kirke never got the job. But this information does show that people were moving between this country and New England regularly and that the settlement there was well established. It might also explain why Thomas ended up there instead of in the West Indies like all the other prisoners who were transported after the battle.”

“Anything more about Fitzwalter?” Sean wasn’t concerned about the other players in the story; he just wanted to find out where Fitzwalter had been buried so that he could dig the bastard up and stick a stake through where his heart should be or whatever else needed to be done to ensure Lan’s safety.

“No, and that means we still don’t know who he is and what his connection with Thomas is,” Lan said despondently. 

Bodie turned to Sean. “Lan said that Jack Cartwright is in town.”

Sean swallowed the mouthful of beer he’d just taken before nodding. “Yeah, he’s been seconded to Avon and Somerset to lead on a case.”

“What case?” Bodie raised an eyebrow.

“Something to do with a suspected serial killer. They’re looking for someone who has left London and is now in Bristol but who has also lived in Portsmouth and Plymouth in the past few years.”

“Serial killer?” Doyle looked up quickly. “We’ve not heard anything about that.”

“The situation is complicated by the fact that the missing men have just left a relationship. As a result they are not always reported missing immediately and when they are, because gay men have the reputation of playing the field, the police aren’t interested. The absence of any bodies is also making it difficult to confirm that there is a serial killer at work here. Jack says the Met have been trying to ignore the issue for months.” Sean had no qualms sharing the information with Bodie and Doyle, working for CI5 gave them the highest security clearance. 

Bodie nodded slowly. “Yeah, and all the locations are ports so maybe they have a more transient population as well which covers up the disappearances.”

“Are all the victims gay?” Doyle questioned.

“As far as Jack knows. We’ve not seen him for a couple of weeks to get any updates because he’s been working long hours and now has a place of his own. He’s also had to go back to London twice in the past month alone.”

“Talk of the Devil,” Bodie said, and when Sean looked up he saw Jack and another man walking up the path, towards the pub door.

Sean waited for Jack to make the first move to acknowledge them because he wasn’t sure if he was working undercover but he either didn’t see them or ignored the group because the pair disappeared inside the door. The man with Jack wasn’t someone Sean knew which raised a whole slew of questions.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that night, Bodie was woken by noises from the room next door. Convinced that the noises weren’t anything usual, Bodie shook Ray’s shoulder to wake him, then he muttered, “Something’s happening in Sean and Lan’s room.”

“Sounds like another nightmare,” Ray suggested after listening for a moment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Bodie rolled over so that he was lying on his back. Reaching out he clasped Ray’s hand. “They’re both looking exhausted.”

“I know. We would too if we hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in more than two months. And they know Fitzwalter is going to be back in a few weeks; living with that hanging over you can’t help.”

“I don’t like Cartwright being here either. It feels wrong.”

“Why? Because Lan doesn’t trust him?” Ray asked.

“Because I don’t either. I agree with Lan, Jack’s got a thing for Sean and while I don’t think he would deliberately try to come between them, if he were in a life or death situation and had to make a split second decision I think I know how he would choose.” Bodie tugged on Ray’s hand to get him to come closer. He sighed with pleasure when Ray rolled until he was pressed against Bodie’s right side, one hand spread on his chest for balance.

“Sean’s completely oblivious to any sort of tension.”

“Which is a bit surprising given his previous career,” Bodie said thoughtfully.

“Ah well, Sean has always said he wondered what Lan saw in him.”

“Sean’s an idiot. Anyone with half a brain can see that Lan is devoted to him. They are made for each other. We have to get to the bottom of who and what Roger Fitzwalter was.”

Ray pushed himself up on one arm and adopted a listening pose. “It’s getting quieter so it’s probably over for tonight.”

“I hope so. I need more sleep but I’m not sure I’m going to find it easy to doze off again.”

Moving until he was lying half over Bodie, Ray gave him a smile, barely visible in the glow from the streetlight coming through the curtains. “I bet I can help you there.”

“You think so?” Bodie’s grin was wicked.

“Nah, I know so.”

As his arms went around his lover, Bodie reflected that he was very glad it wasn’t Ray who had a pissed off spectre after his arse. That arse belonged to him and Bodie had no intention of sharing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Friday 18th October 1985**  
Sean filled the kettle and plugged it in to boil. Over the noise of the bubbling water he shouted, “Lan, I’m making a cuppa, you want anything?”

Coming in from the living room where they’d been sitting in an uncomfortable silence in front of some rubbish or other that was on the TV, Lan said, “Yeah, I'll have a coffee.”

Sean’s heart sank; once again it appeared that Lan was planning on not coming to bed any time soon.

“Are you sure you want coffee?” Sean ventured.

“I wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t,” Lan responded flatly, avoiding Sean’s gaze.

“But it’ll only keep you awake and you’re sleeping so badly as it is…”

“Fuck it, Sean, I said I wanted coffee. Why did you ask if I wanted anything if you were going to argue about it.”

Sean’s sleep had been almost as disturbed as Lan’s so his hold in his temper had been tenuous to start with but Lan’s angry response had been the last straw. “I know why you want coffee, you’re hoping you’ll be able to stay awake until you fall into bed so tired, you’ll sleep without dreaming.”

Lan folded his arms and finally met Sean’s eye. “Yeah, so? Have you got any better suggestions because believe me I’d love to hear them.”

Feeling backed into a corner Sean barely managed to bite back an even angrier reply. That would only lead to a massive row and things were tense enough between them as it was. He racked his brain for ideas when suddenly inspiration struck. “How about a massage?”

“Massage?” His suggestion had obviously taken Lan by surprise because his sour expression faded to be replaced by one of curiosity.

“Yes, a massage.”

“But you’ve never done that before.”

“I know but it can’t hurt to try, can it?”

Lan shrugged. “I suppose not.”

Warming to his idea and realising he had to now work out the practicalities, Sean gestured with his head. “Go on, go upstairs and get undressed. Put a big towel on the bed so that I don’t get oil on the duvet and I’ll turn everything off here and be right with you.”

Sean hurriedly switched off the kettle and the kitchen light before going in and turning off the television and the living room lights. He could hear Lan moving around upstairs and the sound of water running as he brushed his teeth. Giving him a moment to get into the bedroom, Sean headed up to the bathroom. Digging around in the cupboard under the sink he found the lavender oil Sam had given Lan for Christmas the previous year. The gift had caused a lot of ribald humour when Lan had unwrapped it and it had been put in the cupboard and forgotten pretty soon after.

Taking a leak before washing his hands and brushing his teeth, Sean walked into the bedroom and stripped off his clothes. If asked he would claim he was naked to avoid getting oil on his clothes but in reality he was hoping that a slow sensuous massage might lead to something else. Lan had been so tired lately that the only thing going on in their bed had been sleep interspersed with Lan’s nightmares.

Lan was lying on the bed and Sean grinned at the vision of his arse standing out white against the tanned skin covering Lan’s back and legs from their holiday. Dimming the lights in the room Sean said, “You okay? Not cold or anything?”

“I’m fine.” Lan spoke softly and Sean could easily hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Okay.” Taking the bottle of oil, Sean crawled onto the bed, straddling Lan’s legs. The mattress gave a little making it slightly difficult to keep his balance but Sean didn’t let that put him off. In position, he opened the oil and the aromatic scent filled the room. Immediately Sean found himself calming and he hoped it would have a similar effect on Lan and help him get an undisturbed night’s sleep for once.

Pouring some oil into the palm of his hand, Sean warmed it by rubbing it over his hands. Then, with gentle strokes he started with Lan’s shoulders and began smoothing the oil onto his skin. It was surprising how quickly he developed a rhythm and soon he was digging his fingers into tense muscles and feeling Lan begin to relax beneath him.

Within five minutes Lan was asleep, his breathing deep and even. Continuing to work his way down Lan’s back, Sean realised that even though there could have been a sexual element to what he was doing, he was enjoying the opportunity to care for his lover with nothing expected in return.

When he was finished, Sean realised the drawback with his plan. Now Lan was sound asleep on top of the duvet and there was no way Sean was going to be able to get it out from under him without waking him, which was the last thing he wanted to do.

With a resigned shrug, Sean went into the bathroom and washed his hands again before grabbing the duvet off the bed in the spare room. Laying the duvet carefully over Lan, Sean turned off the light and climbed in beside him. Before he closed his eyes, he offered a prayer that their sleep tonight would be undisturbed.


	7. Saturday 19th October 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack reveals more about the case and it is much more serious than first imagined.

The following morning, Sean woke first feeling more rested than he could remember being for a while. Their night had been disturbed, when Lan had woken him around three in the throes of a nightmare, but Sean had been able to get him back into a deeper sleep almost without him waking which was a vast improvement. 

But with less than two weeks to go to Halloween and no concrete information on Fitzwalter, Sean worried constantly about Lan’s safety.

Sliding out of bed Sean headed first for the bathroom, getting a shock when he looked at the clock they kept on the window sill. It was nearly eleven! Grabbing a pair of jeans off the bedroom floor, he pulled them on and headed downstairs. He needed coffee and a shower - in that order.

He’d only just put the kettle on when the door bell rang. Wondering who it could be he headed for the door.

“Jack? I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning; we hadn’t arranged anything had we?”

“No. I was in the area and thought I’d drop by.”

“Oh, okay, you’d better come in then. I’ve just put the kettle on. Do you want a cuppa?”

Jack came into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “I’d prefer coffee.”

Spooning the brown granules into two mugs, Sean waited while the kettle boiled a second time before pouring the water. “You want milk or sugar?”

Jack shook his head. “No, black’s fine.”

Setting the mugs down on the table, Sean sat. Lifting the mug he took a small sip. It was just what he needed.

“Where’s Lan?” 

“He’s still asleep.”

Jack immediately gave Sean a lecherous grin. “Oh, you wore him out did you?”

“No,” Sean answered flatly, not at all inclined to share any of Lan’s current problems with Jack. “Anyway, how’s the investigation going?”

“Slowly. There’s been a lot of information to sift through to try to find some sort of common factor in all the cases. It hasn’t helped that we can’t be absolutely sure in every case that the man has gone missing. I’ll bet half of the names we have are living it up in another city somewhere.”

“Surely they would have contacted family even if they didn’t want to talk to their ex's?”

“Maybe.” Jack drank some more of his coffee.

“So how many names have you got?”

“We’re pretty sure that somewhere between twenty-five and thirty men are probably missing.”

“That many? Shit, that’s a lot worse than I thought. How many different cities?”

“Five. LLGS have been helping us collate the data and it looks like there are five or six men who go missing in each place and then the killer moves on.”

“Killer? Does that mean you’re sure about that?”

“No, we’ve still not got any more bodies which is making it difficult to do anything. With no cause of death, we can’t look for similar crimes or those with criminal records. It’s like working with my hands tied behind my back.”

Sean was about to reply but he heard movement from upstairs. “Hang on a minute, I think Lan’s awake. I’ll go and find out if he wants some a tea.”

As Sean climbed the stairs he heard the toilet flush and then water running in the bathroom so he waited outside for Lan to emerge. When he did he was stark naked and when he saw Sean his eyes lit up and other parts of his anatomy began to take an interest. Which of course, encouraged Sean’s cock to react.

Taking Sean’s hand, Lan began to pull him towards the bedroom. “I hoped you’d come back to bed now that I’m awake.”

They were into the bedroom before Sean dug in his heels and tugged Lan to a halt. “Sorry, Lan, but we can’t now. Jack’s downstairs, he arrived about ten minutes ago. I heard you moving around and only came up to find out if you wanted a drink.”

“Bollocks!” 

He frowned and Sean was reminded of a small child denied ice cream. Pulling Lan into his arms, Sean stroked his hand down his lover’s back and over his arse. “I’m sorry. I asked about the case and it looks a whole lot more serious than we first thought so I don’t want to shove him out the door right away. How about you come down and say hello and then when he’s gone we can come back up here?”

Without answering Lan moved his head until his lips met Sean’s. Feeling Lan’s tongue tracing the entrance to his mouth, Sean opened for him. By the time Lan let him go, heading back downstairs was the last thing on Sean’s mind. But then Lan was shoving a t-shirt into his hands and pushing him towards the door. “But…”

“That was just a reminder of what we could be doing soon if Jack doesn’t stay too long. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“You’d better put some clothes on first or I’ll be tempted to fuck you on the kitchen table whether Jack is there or not,” was Sean’s parting comment as he headed for the stairs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aware of the faint scent of lavender that clung to his skin and not wanting to smell like someone’s maiden aunt, Lan decided to shower before he went downstairs. It took him nearly fifteen minutes to wash and get dressed in jeans and a loose fitting shirt. The weather had changed the previous week, with much lower temperatures both during the day and at night, so he was glad of the warm fleecy lining against his skin

He could hear voices as he walked down the stairs so he followed the sound to the kitchen. Jack was sitting opposite Sean in the chair Lan normally used. So, instead, Lan took a seat close to Sean. Sean pushed a mug over to him and he took a sip of the hot drink before looking over at Jack and nodding a greeting at him.

“Lando, how’re you doing?”

“I’m fine. Sean said there had been some developments with the case.”

“Some. At least we have a better idea of the number of men missing.”

“How many?”

“Maybe around thirty. Jake Williams is coming to visit next week to take a look at the names I have and see if he can eliminate any of them.”

Lan was shaken by the numbers. How could so many men could go missing and it was only now that anything was being done about it? It also rankled that the fact that the missing men were gay had relegated them to the status of second class citizens who no one apart from their like-minded friends would miss. 

“Jake’s coming here?”

“Yes. He’s taken a keen interest in the case from the start. Oh that’s right, you mentioned you knew him when I first arrived, I’d almost forgotten.”

“How is he?”

“He’s fine.” 

Lan said, “It would be good to catch up with him again, if there’s time during his visit.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll mention it and see what can be arranged. Maybe the four of us can go out for a drink or something."

“Okay. So do you have any leads? Surely someone must have been trying to check if anyone with a record any sort of hate crime has been living in the right place at the right time to be involved?”

“Of course we are. It’s just not that easy to do. Tracking the movements of an unknown person over five or six years is like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

Lan nodded. Jack was right, finding the killer was going to be next to impossible unless they could catch him in the act.

“Have you checked out Godfrey Evans?” Sean asked.

Jack had just taken a mouthful of his coffee; swallowing quickly he said, “Who?”

“He’s a self-styled evangelist, calls himself the Voice of God, or some other rubbish. I heard a rumour that when his wife was pregnant several years ago, there were some complications of the pregnancy and she lost the baby. They were older parents and she didn’t handle it well at all and eventually she committed suicide so he lost both his wife and unborn child within a couple of months. Despite the hospital's denial, Godfrey blamed a transfusion of contaminated blood. He’s been preaching hell and damnation for gay people ever since.”

“Oh, yes, I know who you mean. He talks a lot but is an old man, there’s no way he could abduct a young, fit guy. We still checked him out and he’s lived here for the past ten years, unless he’s been doing a lot of travelling we don’t know about, he’s in the clear. But if you can think of anyone else, I need to know about them.”

“You’re never going to catch the bastard unless you know in advance who he is going to target,” Lan suggested.

Jack nodded. “I know that and Jake has suggested using himself as bait but I told him he was fucking crazy –”

“The fuck he is,” Lan interrupted. “I’d offer myself as a target before I let him do it.”

“No way.” Sean’s voice cut through the sudden silence in the room. “Don’t even think about it. We have less than two weeks until he comes after you again.”

“Sean!” Lan’s heart sank, Sean had revealed more than he should and there was no way Jack was going to let that sort of statement go without an explanation.

“What? Who’s coming after Lan?” Jack looked from one to the other of them, his face creased into a frown.

Lan stared at Sean and for several moments they didn’t say anything, somehow communicating without words. Finally, Lan closed his eyes and nodded, giving Sean tacit permission to explain to Jack about Fitzwalter.

Letting Sean talk, Lan moved around the kitchen making toast though the thought of eating anything made his stomach heave. As he put the plate on the table he saw the way Jack was looking at him. He knew Jack wouldn’t believe him. Sean had but he’d had a vested interest in keeping Lan happy until he’d experienced Fitzwalter’s influence for himself in the bar with Bodie and Doyle. In fact the only one who’d believed him without a question had been Bodie.

Lost in thought it took Lan a while to realise that Jack had asked him a question.

“What?”

“I asked if you were sure he was going to come after you again this year.”

Lan shrugged. “As sure as I can be. It’s a ghost for fuck’s sake, there’s not a lot of precedence for something like this that I’m aware of.”

Jack stood and said with finality, “It’s not going to be an issue. You’re not getting involved any more than Jake. Anyway, I have to be going. Sorry to disrupt your morning.”

They saw Jack to the door together and once it was closed Sean took Lan’s hand and pulled him back towards the kitchen. “Come on, you need to eat something.”

“I don’t know, Sean, I don’t feel very hungry.”

Stopping just inside the kitchen, Sean turned and pulled Lan into his arms, burying his face against Lan’s neck. He whispered fiercely, “Please, Lan, just humour me. Every year, I know I could lose you to this bastard. It makes me feel so helpless. I need to believe there is something I can do.”

Seeing the fear that Sean normally kept hidden so clearly made Lan realise that, in a lot of ways, he had the easier end of the deal. If he died his problems would be pretty much over but Sean would have to bear the loss and grieve, as would his mum and Sam. “I’m sorry, Sean, I tend to forget it’s just as worrying for you, if not more so.”

“It’s okay; I don’t mean to nag…”

“I know you don’t and I know that you’re worried. I really believe we can get through this, Sean.” Making himself smile, Lan asked, “So, have we got any bacon? I really fancy a bacon sandwich about now.”

Sean nodded attempting a matching smile of his own. “Great, me too. You want brown or red sauce on yours?”


	8. Tuesday 22nd October 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens and draws closer to home...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not posting last week - it was too hectic!

Leaving Sean to lock the car, Lan headed over to the entrance to their office. He pushed the door to open it and promptly ended up almost smacking his nose against the glass. “What the…?”

Sean pulled him to one side and tried the door himself but it still didn’t open. “Daph must be late this morning. Did she say anything about visiting Muriel or going to the bank?”

After a moment’s thought Lan replied, “Not as far as I remember.” 

Taking the key out of his jacket pocket Sean slid it into the lock. Before he could turn it Lan grabbed his shoulder. “Let’s be careful, just in case.”

Nodding, Sean slipped inside silently and Lan followed. The office was empty and there didn’t appear to be anything out of place. Once they had checked the toilets and the small kitchen, Sean switched on the light and looked around. “Everything seems to be fine, she must just be late.”

Lan pointed at the main phone on Daphne’s desk where a light was flashing. “Looks like there’s a message waiting. You check that and I’ll put the kettle on.”

Sean sat down at Daphne’s desk and pressed the button to play the message.

There were a couple of clicks where people had hung up and nothing else. He replaced the receiver and it rang again immediately. “Bean and Bloom,” he answered automatically.

“Sean?” 

He recognised Daphne’s voice at once even though she sounded a little strange.

“Yes. Is everything okay?” As he asked the question he saw Lan come back into the room with two mugs in his hand. He came over and put the mugs down and perched on the edge of Daphne’s desk.

“Not really, a friend of mine has a problem so I was just ringing to let you know I’ll be late. I tried to call you at home but you must have already left.”

“Is there anything we can do?” She sounded flustered which was unusual for the normally unflappable Daphne.

“I’ll be in by ten and would like to talk to you then.”

“Okay, Daph. You know we’ll do whatever we can to help.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Daphne walked through the door Sean could see that she was still upset. She was usually immaculately presented, but today, her hair was a mess and her make-up had run slightly as though she’d been crying.

Lan steered her into a chair and disappeared into the kitchen, coming came back minutes later with a cup of tea which he put down beside her.

“Okay, Daph, how about you tell us what’s going on so that we can help.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate you wanting to help but I don’t know if there is anything you can do.”

“Come on, we’re ex-coppers so you should let us be the judge of that,” Sean said firmly.

“I received a phone call from an old school friend, Frances Gardner, early this morning. Her son is missing. Of course I went straight round to see her –”

“How does she know he is missing? Does he still live at home?” Lan asked.

“No, he doesn’t live at home any longer but today is Frances’ birthday you see, and Neil would never miss it, no matter the reason. They don’t have any other family, just the two of them, so they are very close.”

“Has she tried phoning him and his workplace to see if he’s there?”

“Yes, she has. He wasn’t in yesterday and hasn’t arrived today and hasn’t rung in sick. They were pretty concerned but didn’t really know what they could do apart from contact Frances. Her ringing them pre-empted that. So they are leaving it her to for now and asked if she could let them know what was going on.

“Frances spoke to his landlady, the one who owns the flat he lives in, and she hasn’t seen him in nearly a week. Frances knows some of his friends and they haven’t seen him since Friday evening. Apparently they were all in a bar somewhere and Neil just vanished. One minute he was there and then he wasn’t so they assumed he’d gone home. Frances tried to report it to the police but they have said they can’t do anything unless she has reason to believe he has been hurt or abducted in some way. Of course she doesn’t have any evidence of that, he lived with his boyfriend up until the beginning of the month but they split up and now Neil has vanished. Poor Frances is absolutely distraught.”

Sean sought out Lan’s gaze and knew they were both reaching the same conclusion. It sounded like Neil might be the next victim of the killer Jack was tracking.

“Um, Daph, you mentioned a boyfriend, so Neil is gay?”

“Yes, he is. Does that mean something? Do you know what’s going on?”

“We’re not sure yet,” Sean answered.

“I think we need to get Jack here," Lan suggested.

“Jack?” Daphne looked from one to the other of them. “Are you talking about Jack Cartwright?”

Lan nodded. “Yeah.”

Daphne looked even more worried. “But he’s working on a serious case, isn’t he? You haven’t mentioned any details…”

Sean nodded. “Jack has asked us not to say anything and I’m not sure that Neil’s disappearance is related to Jack’s investigation. But I think it’s worth mentioning to him to be on the safe side.”

When Sean glanced over at Lan he was surprised to see him frowning. Lan obviously didn't approve of something he’d said. Perhaps Lan thought he should have told Daphne that her friend’s son was unlikely to ever be seen again and then asked her to keep the news to herself?

“I’ll give Jack a ring now and if he decides to talk to Frances, you should go and wait with her until he arrives. If you could let me have her address, I can pass it on.”

Sean phoned Jack while Daphne was in the ladies tidying herself up, and passed on the information they had gathered.

“Fuck, he’s already taken more men here than anywhere else, according to the records we have. That either means he’s about to move on or there are a lot more men are missing than we have estimated in the other locations.” Jack sighed.

“So are you going to visit Neil's mother and talk to her? The trail is still fresh so you need to get people out there asking questions.”

“You do realise the complement of my team, don’t you, Sean? There’s me, a single detective constable and a couple of wooden tops. That’s the extent of my task force for what may turn out to be the most prolific serial killer we’ve ever had in this country. It feels to me like I’ve been screwed over because they really don’t care about tracking down this bastard.”

“So what are you going to do?” Sean snapped in retaliation.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to put this evil shit behind bars where he belongs.”

“And will you visit Frances Gardner?”

“Yes I will.”

Realising the conversation was getting too heated if Jack was going to contact the missing man’s mother, Sean said, “Go easy with her, Jack, it’s her birthday today and her son is the only one she has left. Her husband died five years ago.”

“I’ll be as gentle as a lamb, Sean. I haven’t turned into a complete bastard since you left the force.”

“Thanks, Jack. Listen, Daphne is going to go over there too, to keep her company for a while longer.”

“Righto, let her know I should be there in about half an hour.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sean perched on the edge of his desk, waiting until he heard the sound of Daphne’s car starting and her reversing off the forecourt. He looked over to where Lan was sitting. “Do you think I was wrong not to tell her that her friend is unlikely to ever see her son again?”

Lan stood and walked towards him, stopping when he was standing between Sean’s legs. “No, I don’t. I know why you did it. And there is a chance he’s still alive.”

“A slim one.”

“I think stronger than that, for now.”

Sean lifted his hands and rested them on Lan’s waist. “Is this something to do with your psychic ability? Can you see something?”

Lan bit his lip thoughtfully and then shook his head. “I wish I could. I’ve got the feeling that Neil is still alive and we need to do something quickly to find him but that’s all.”

“What about motive? I’ve been wracking my brains but can’t think of any reason other than blind prejudice for all these disappearances. ” Sean sighed.

“My guess is that it’s revenge but against all of us, rather than just the men he takes. Think about it, Sean, the lack of bodies could mean he’s not grabbing these blokes and killing them right away. If he was simply trying to make all gay men reconsider where their preferences lie, or think twice about acting on them, then he would be doing an impersonation of ‘Jack the Ripper’ and leaving mutilated bodies everywhere.”

“It’s a good theory but it doesn’t make sense to me. If he is seeking revenge then he could be killing them straight off and hiding the bodies to avoid being caught. You know as well as I do that forensics play a huge part in tracking down the guilty.”

“Yeah, and in most cases the victim knows the murderer.” Lan moved closer and put his arms around Sean’s neck, bending so that he could rest his forehead on Sean’s shoulder. “Either way, Jack needs to do something and soon.”

Without speaking, Sean stood and pulled Lan in so that their bodies were touching and just enjoyed a couple of minutes of peace. 

Lan might be the psychic but Sean knew without question they were going to end up getting more deeply involved .in this case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Thursday 24th October 1985**  
Sean opened their front door and studied the man standing there with Jack. Jake Williams wasn’t near Jack’s height so maybe around five nine with a medium build. Lan had mentioned that Jake had given him advice some years before, so Sean was surprised that Jake still only looked as though he was only in his mid-thirties.

“Sean, this is Jake. He started the LLGS.”

“Sure, pleased to meet you, Jake, come in. Lan’s in the kitchen and I know he’s looking forward to seeing you again. Any news on Neil?” 

Sean moved aside to let them in and as Jack walked past he said, “No not a whisper. He’s vanished without a trace, just like the others.”

Once in the kitchen Lan and Jake shook hands then Lan handed out beers and they all sat down.

Jake spoke first, smiling at Lan. “You’re looking good, Lando, he must be good for you.” Jake nodded in Sean’s direction.

Lan reached over and touched Sean’s hand. “Yeah, he is. You’re not looking so bad yourself.”

“I’m doing okay.”

“I’ll try to explain where we’re up to with the case. I know I don’t have to say it but I will anyway, anything you hear in this room is confidential. Nothing can be repeated to anyone, not even Neil’s mother.” Jack’s voice was raspy and he sounded tired.

“Does that mean you have some leads?” Jake asked.

Jack emptied his beer into a glass before responding. “No, it means the exact opposite. We have absolutely nothing to go on. In more than twenty years I’ve never worked a case like this. It’s making me wonder if the person responsible is in the job.”

“You think it’s a copper?” Sean asked.

“I don’t know but it’s a good a guess as any. There is more than one out there with a grievance.”

“Well, if you’re looking for ex-coppers with a grudge connected to homosexuality, we could easily fit the bill. We’d have as good a reason as anyone to want to make the Met look stupid and accuse them of not responding appropriately. The bigoted bastards.” Lan said disgustedly.

“Jesus, Lan I know it isn’t either of you.” Jack looked shocked at the suggestion, but in Sean’s opinion, Lan’s comment only served to underline just how difficult finding the real culprit was going to be.

Jake had remained silent during their discussion but now he spoke up, “I want to set myself up as a target. All I have to do is hang around the local clubs and –”

“No!” Three voices uttered the same word simultaneously. At the same time Lan grabbed Sean’s arm in a death grip.

Using his other hand to pat Lan’s arm in reassurance Sean said, “It won’t work.”

“Why not? I fit the profile,” Jake said.

Sean stood and walked over to the fridge to retrieve more drinks, saying, “No, you don’t; you’re not a local. You’d stand out like a sore thumb around here. Anyway I can’t believe Jack hasn’t already mentioned that you’re a bloody civilian.”

“We’ve got to do something. I went to visit Neil’s mother today and the poor woman is sick with worry…”

“I’ll do it.” Lan’s voice was low but the words carried. 

Sean felt the words more than heard them but somehow he managed to shake his head. “No, you can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

Lan pushed a hand through his hair wearily and then shrugged, the gesture a picture of hopelessness. “Who else is there?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jack and Jake had left over an hour ago. Now they were in their bedroom and Sean was pacing the room, still trying to come up with arguments to convince Lan that he couldn’t set himself up as a target. 

Taking Sean’s hand, Lan pulled him over to the bed and made him sit. “Listen, Sean, I don’t have a death wish. I know you’ll be there looking out for me. I’ll be wearing a tracker and you can follow me. It’s our only chance to find Neil before time runs out for him. Can you imagine the state my mum would be in if I was missing?”

“What am I going to do if the plan goes wrong? How am I going to tell your mum that I let you do this and couldn’t stop him from killing you?”

“You won’t, Sean. It’s not the first time I’ve trusted you with my life and I know you won’t let me down.”

“Why are you so insistent on doing this?” Sean leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees; his hands were over his eyes.

“Because I’m the best one for the job. I wouldn’t be able to look Daphne in the eye again if I don’t at least attempt this.” Lan shrugged. “He might not take the bait but at least I’ll know we tried everything possible.”

Sitting beside Sean, he put a hand on his back and began to stroke him slowly, trying to make the tense muscles relax. “Come on, Sean, why don’t you get into bed?”

“You’re coming too?”

“Of course. Why? Are you thinking of some sort of encouragement for me?”

Sean lifted his head and gave a very faint smile. “Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to post at least one more chapter before I head off on holiday and then there will not be anything until mid January.


	9. Friday 25th October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan begins his work as a target for the serial killer...

Five of them were sitting around the table in Sean and Lan’s kitchen. Bodie hated the idea of Lan putting himself into danger but the objective part of his mind could understand the reasoning behind such a move. Sean’s expression looked particularly strained and Bodie didn’t blame him. He’d be in the same state if it was Ray suggesting he set himself up as the target. The only consoling factors were that there would be four of them watching out for Lan and he wasn’t a civilian with no idea of how to look after himself. 

The bigger problem, in Bodie’s estimation, was that it was less than a week to Halloween and even though they’d made a little progress with the background for Fitzwalter and they now had a pretty good idea that his and Thomas’ paths had crossed during the Battle of Sedgemoor or soon after, Bodie hadn’t been able to find out where the bastard was buried so that he could arrange for a priest to exorcise his evil spirit. 

Lan was sitting next to Sean, their shoulders touching and even though Bodie couldn’t see it, he could tell from the position of their arms that they were holding hands.

Standing, Bodie pointed at the two of them. “It’s not going to work.”

“Why not?” Cartwright snapped.

Bodie was tempted to say something about Jack not being concerned for Lan’s safety and only worrying about succeeding in solving the case, but he restrained himself. He and Ray had talked about Cartwright’s motivation in the case and neither of them had liked the conclusions they’d come to. For now, though, they’d keep those ideas to themselves. But, if anything happened to Lan, there would be hell to pay.

Tipping his head at Sean and Lan, Bodie said, “Look at them. Look at how they are around each other. Who’s going to believe they aren’t together any longer?”

Lan shrank back from the accusation in his voice and Bodie’s gut clenched. He loved Lan like a brother and if he was going to let him and Sean go through with this idiotic plan then they needed to have at least half a chance of success to justify the risk. 

Ray added, “I can see what you mean. But if might work if Sean can pull off a poker face and not show any emotion. If Lan looks upset, like he does now, there’s a chance everyone will think Sean kicked him to the kerb.”

Bloody hell, didn’t Ray have the sense to keep his mouth shut? Did he honestly want Lan to put himself in danger? “So let’s assume we can pull it off. What are the rest of the plans? How is Lan going to be protected while he’s out there with a target painted on his back?” Bodie snapped the questions at Jack.

Looking at the notes in front of him, Jack said, “We’ve got him a room in a small family run hotel not far from his office. We also have the room next door and there will be someone there at all times. We’ve set up surveillance in the room so not even a mouse can get in without the alarm sounding.”

“Surveillance? Does that include CCTV cameras and sound? And how good is the equipment? I’ve seen some pretty crap stuff in my time in the Sweeney?” Sean asked worriedly.

“It’s okay, we’ve got some top of the range stuff from a local company; they’ve just started up and have come up with some innovative ideas. My DC and the two uniformed constables will be in the room next door manning the equipment and they’ll have one of their techs on standby too.” 

Jack pointed at Bodie and Doyle. “I’m grateful for your help so your job is to cover him when he’s in the car as well as when he’s in the clubs. You can pass as a couple there and aren’t known locally so no one will think anything of it. Sean, you know what you have to do?”

“Yeah, I need to accidentally run into Lan while I’m out and make it clear that we’re not together any longer. The other thing I need to make clear though is that we can only run this ruse until Wednesday at the latest. You’re all aware of what is likely to happen at Halloween and I won’t risk the ghost being able to get to Lan when he is alone.”

“Sean, I know you’re worried but you need to stop trying to protect me. It’s okay now, here with friends but outside this room we have to be believable.” 

“No, that’s understood,” Jack replied before Sean could respond to Lan’s words. “If you’re agreeable, Lan, we’ll give this a go over the weekend and maybe on Monday and Tuesday evenings. Any longer and I don’t think Neil Gardner is still going to be alive. Maybe we can look at a re-run the following weekend if it hasn’t worked but we can worry about that after next Thursday.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Saturday 26th October**  
Bodie pulled the Capri into a space outside a garishly lit building. The sign proclaimed it to be called The Back Door, the irony of which wasn’t lost on him. This was the last place that Neil Gardner had been seen. They waited while Lan paid the taxi driver and walked inside before following him. It was nearing midnight on a Friday evening so Bodie was expecting the club to be crowded and noisy and it fulfilled all his expectations.

They followed Lan inside and as he made a beeline for the bar. As they had planned, Sean was already sitting at the bar when Lan got there, a bottle of beer in front of him. Jack was standing beside him and they were talking or more likely shouting to make themselves heard above the music. 

Seeing Sean, Lan didn’t bother to order a drink, he just went over and stood beside him. Not being close enough to hear the actual words they spoke, Bodie had to admire their acting ability. From where he and Ray were standing, it looked exactly as though Lan was asking Sean to take him back.

When Sean began shaking his head Lan’s shoulders slumped and he wiped at his face with one hand. Turning he started to retrace his steps towards the door and then seemed to get an idea and instead attracted the barman’s attention and ordered a drink. It looked like a neat scotch and he downed it in one before ordering another. A barstool became vacant so Lan sat down, nursing the new drink and ignoring the revelry going on around him.

After about half an hour, Sean and Jack left the bar, Sean making a conscious decision to ignore his lover. Lan’s shoulders slumped a little more as the two men passed him but he didn’t turn or acknowledge their passing in any other way.

Ray brought two beers over to the alcove where Bodie was observing. Ray leaned closer and whispered in Bodie’s ear. “God, he looks devastated. I’d believe that Sean has ended it with him.”

“That’s the scheme. They’ll be waiting outside and keeping watch. We just have to hope that someone takes the bait quickly, I’m not sure how long my ears are going last with the noise in here.”

As time wore on a number of men in increasing states of drunkenness had come up to Lan and tried to talk to him but he had ignored them, shaking his head in a gesture of dismissal at each of them.

By three o’clock the club was beginning to empty out, Bodie and Ray followed Lan as he left, keeping some distance behind him but close enough to interfere if there was a problem. In any event, Lan managed to hail a cab easily. With Ray driving they followed him back to the hotel and waited while he went inside. Almost immediately the radio crackled and the men Jack had stationed in the room next to Lan reported, “He’s back in his room.”

“Okay, we’re off to get some sleep. Call us immediately if you see anything suspicious.” 

“Will do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**Tuesday 29th October 1985**  
They’d re-run the same scenario for three more nights and still nothing. Bodie picked up his beer and put it down again without tasting it. He was finding it increasingly difficult to focus as the boredom of their constant watching brief became more tedious. Even so, Bodie was sure he would prefer the tedium to continue as long as it meant that Lan was safe. Having to keep tabs on Lan twenty – four – seven had made it difficult to get any more research done themselves so Bodie had given in and asked Daphne if she could get one of her historical society friends to find out anything.

“What do you think? Do you reckon he’ll make a try for Lan or is it just too obvious he’s bait?”

For once Bodie looked at Lan objectively. Seeing him sitting alone it was easy to believe he was suffering. “He seems to be believable to me; in fact I’m not so sure he’s acting as much as he was at the beginning. Sean admitted earlier that being apart is bothering him too. Neither of them is in the right frame of mind to go up against Fitzwalter right now.”

“Well, it’s Tuesday and this place will close at midnight. It should also have emptied out by then so keeping an eye on Lan is going to be easier,” Ray suggested.

“Yeah, I hope so.” Bodie scratched at his ear nervously.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Ray leaned closer and spoke against his ear, the sensation giving him cold shivers, which was not a normal reaction. “You can’t fool me, Bodie, I know you too well. Something’s bothering you.”

Bodie gave a half smile, yeah, Ray did know him well, well enough to realise something was up. “I think we need to keep our eyes open. I get the feeling that something is going to happen tonight.”

“Is this something to do with those phone calls Daphne reported today?”

Bodie nodded, Daphne had told Sean that she had been phoned twice in the office by a male voice asking to speak to Lan. When she had asked if she could take a message as Lan wasn’t due into the office, the caller had hung up. One call would be okay, but a second call, especially as Daphne was sure it was the same voice, was more than coincidental. Lan had been warned but that was no guarantee of anything. “Yeah, more than one makes me suspicious.”

“You’re not the only one. Jack was going to make some enquiries at Neil Gardner’s place to see if anyone called to speak to him before he vanished. You want me to go outside and let Sean and Jack know they should keep their wits about them?”

Feeling the tension in his partner’s frame increase until Ray was coiled like a spring; Bodie took his arm and pulled him close. “Not yet. Let’s give it a little while longer. It’s nearly closing time.”

Ten minutes later another guy came over and tried to talk to Lan. 

“Have you seen him hanging around before?” Ray asked.

“Nah.” Bodie looked over at the guy. He was easily as tall as Bodie, with short dark hair. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans which emphasised his well-developed physique. To Bodie, his whole demeanour screamed military.

From the guy’s gestures he seemed to be offering to buy Lan a drink. As he had done for the last four nights, Lan shook his head. This time he also pointed to his glass, as though explaining he still had some of his drink left. Instead of taking the brush off and moving on, the guy stayed, taking a seat next to Lan. 

Bodie tensed when the man raised Lan’s glass and sniffed at it before putting it back down. When Lan took another swig of the beer and shrugged, Bodie’s guess was that he was saying there was nothing wrong with his drink. Damn, Bodie wished they’d got Lan to wear a wire – it would be much easier if they knew what was being said.

When the bell sounded for last orders, the guy said something to Lan who shook his head once more.

Bodie went onto alert when Lan finished the beer and slid down from the stool he had been sitting on. Instead of landing squarely on his feet, he staggered slightly and had to put his hand on the bar to steady himself. The mystery man immediately acted concerned and put his arm around Lan’s waist to support him.

Worried, because Lan didn’t appear bothered that the man was holding onto him and because, to his knowledge, Lan had only drunk three beers during the evening. Bodie stood but before he could go over to Lan, Ray grabbed his arm, hissing, “Wait! This could be it!”

Subsiding back to his seat extremely reluctantly Bodie looked on as the man helped Lan towards the exit. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Bodie was out of his seat, closely followed by Ray. They left the bar in time to see Lan being propped against the side of a dark coloured Ford. Completely out of it, he was bundled into the back seat of the vehicle where he slumped over and lay along the back seat. Ray led the way to their Capri and in the meantime, Bodie saw Jack Cartwright at the wheel of a battered Vauxhall. The engine was running and the headlamps were on, the glare hiding the identity of those inside from prying eyes. Sliding into the passenger seat of the Capri, Bodie picked up the radio handset.

“Sean?”

“What’s wrong with Lan? He looked almost unconscious. What did that bastard do to him?”

“Sean, stop!” Bodie snapped. “Lan’s okay. I think something was slipped into his drink to keep him docile. You need to keep your wits about you if we’re going to pull this off.”

Even over the radio Bodie could hear Sean’s deep breath before he spoke again. “You’re right. Okay, let’s make sure we don’t lose them. I know Lan’s carrying a tracker but the range isn’t infinite so we’ll go first, you follow us. We can swap over in a couple of miles if it looks as though he is going a longer distance.”

“Okay. We’ll be right behind you.”


	10. Wednesday 30th October

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the trail of the kidnapper...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this chapter a couple of days early as I'm off on holiday tomorrow. Hubby and I are off to New Zealand spending the first 10 days travelling around the North Island and visiting Hobbiton and other LOTR/Hobbit related sites. Then we're flying to Queenstown to spend a couple of weeks with our daughter and son in law, so home second week in January. Next post should be around 15th January - sorry for leaving you hanging for so long!

Sean kept his eyes focussed on the car in front. He was so tense he couldn’t even remember when he last blinked. Deep down, even though he’d protested about Lan offering to act at bait, he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. So many possible victims had been identified in the area that Sean had let himself hope that the killer had moved on and Lan would be safe.

It had been difficult enough to pretend that he didn’t care about Lan any longer, but now that Lan’s life could be on the line he felt sick. Despite Bodie’s reassurance that Lan had been drugged to make him easier to handle, it had only been Jack’s firm grip on Sean’s arm that had stopped him running over to the car, decking the man and rescuing Lan. Jack had also pointed out that stopping the man taking Lan away was not going to help them find Neil Gardner or provide any evidence that he was the one they were looking for.

As they drove through the streets of Bristol, in the direction of the main A38 road, Sean tried to use the flashes of light from the streetlamps they passed to piece together the characters that made up the car’s number plate. If the plate was real and not a copy, that should give them the identity of the killer – a huge step forward from where they had been just that morning.

The light on the back of the vehicle that should illuminate the number plate was out and Sean had to wonder if that was deliberate. Of course there was the risk of being stopped by an over-zealous traffic copper because of the faulty light.

They’d been driving for about thirty minutes along the A38 and had passed Bristol Airport and the turn off to Cheddar, which made Sean sigh with relief. The events of the previous year in Cheddar still gave him occasional nightmares. Jack hadn’t spoken much, concentrating on the driving which suited Sean just fine. 

Just over a mile later they turned onto a smaller road which was signposted to Wedmore, a village Sean wasn’t familiar with. The road was pitch black and the only way he could see their quarry was by the bright red of his car’s tail lights. The narrow road wound between high hedges and, concerned that Lan’s captor would realise he was being followed, Sean picked up the handset for the radio. “Ray, can you come past us and take over the lead?”

“Will do; slow down a little so that we can come past without anything flashy.”

Jack slowed obediently and within moments, the silver Capri came past them. They drove through the darkened village of Wedmore, with Bodie and Doyle still in the lead. Jack had dropped back so that they could only just see the lights of the Capri. After about four miles they came to a junction with the main Bath road. Following the Capri Jack took a left and then a right, just before a darkened pub which stood on the corner.

They swapped positions again a mile or so further on just as they reached the A361 where their quarry turned right, heading towards Bridgwater and Taunton. The road now appeared to be running along a raised causeway, the surrounding land being around four feet lower and flat. They passed over a small bridge across a stream that reflected in their headlamps. Sean remembered from some of reading he had done on the Battle of Sedgemoor that this area was known as the Somerset levels and was flat and criss-crossed by rhines or drainage ditches.

A bit further on the car they were following turned right back onto a minor road and Sean’s heart sank when he saw that it was signposted Westonzoyland and Middlezoy. “Oh fuck it.” The words came out involuntarily.

“What’s wrong?” Jack swerved a little as he asked the question.

“Westonzoyland. It’s where the fucking battle took place.”

“Battle? What battle?”

“Fuck it, Jack! Were you even listening when I explained about Lan’s history with the ghost or were you planning how you were going to take credit for catching this bastard?”

“Jesus, Sean of course I was bloody listening, it was just a lot to take in so don’t get all high and mighty with me! Don’t forget, I’ve not had six years to get used to being on speaking terms with a ghost like you two have.”

Forcing himself to calm down, Sean explained, “The Battle of Sedgemoor was the last battle fought on English soil. It took place in 1685, three hundred fucking years ago and it happened in a field outside Westonzoyland. The battle is how we think Lan’s ancestor and the ghost first came into contact.”

“So you think the whole kidnapping thing was set up by the ghost, just to get to Lan?”

Thinking over Jack’s question, Sean shook his head, “No I don’t because it’s been going on for too long. What I do think is that the ghost is taking advantage of the situation. Too much has happened for me to think this is a fucking coincidence.” Sean got on the radio again. “Bodie, we’re heading for Westonzoyland, we need to close up so that we don’t lose him.”

“Okay.”

The Ford disappeared around a bend up ahead and at the same time the inside of their car was lit with the glare from the headlamps of the Capri as it drew up close behind them. It might have been that which distracted Jack but suddenly he started swearing. “Fuck it! I’ve lost the bastard!”

Sean had looked behind just to check it was Bodie and Doyle behind them. The instant he heard Jack’s words he twisted forward, praying he was mistaken. They had rounded the bend and the road headed straight on for at least a mile and the other car was nowhere in sight.

“He’s vanished,” Sean said urgently into the microphone.

“He can’t just fucking vanish,” Bodie snapped back. “What about the tracker?”

Cursing, Sean looked down at the small screen that was attached to the dashboard of the car. At first he didn’t understand what he was seeing but then he realised Lan was behind them.

“We need to turn round, he’s turned off somewhere along here, probably just after the bend. Sean studied the plot on the screen for a moment and, using a torch, compared it to the large scale, Ordnance Survey map he was holding. “It looks like he’s turned down a private road that leads to Westonzoyland airfield.”

Behind them, Doyle threw the Capri into a smoking handbrake turn. Jack couldn’t match him for flair but he quickly reversed the vehicle so they could retrace their route. When they came to a gated entrance on the left, Doyle stopped and Bodie jumped out with a torch to inspect the ground. After a short examination, he came over to Sean. 

“It’s muddy and there are no fresh tyre marks so he didn’t go that way.”

“Okay, let’s go back some more. There’s another track on the left about twenty yards further on that leads to the old airfield.”

Bodie nodded. “He looked military to me so that could be a link.”

They drove on a short distance and turned left.

“There are fresh tracks here so we’re going on. Kill your headlights; you don’t want him to know we’re following.” Jack complied and they were plunged into darkness.

“Right. The tracker is saying he’s over somewhere close to the airfield now.”

Driving slowly, in difficult visibility, they passed dark farm buildings, eventually the moon came out from behind the clouds and Sean could make out the tarmac covered runway heading off into the darkness on his left. The road continued to twist and turn until they came to a derelict building which, he guessed, must have been the control tower forty years before.

The tracker was still showing Lan’s position as fifty yards ahead but the moonlight made everything appear in black and white and didn’t let him get any sense of perspective. With anxiety eating at him, Sean got out of the car, but he still had enough presence of mind to make sure the door didn’t slam shut. The others joined him and they all looked at the tracker. Sean turned through three hundred and sixty degrees and then pointed towards several other buildings. “Lan’s that way.”

Without waiting to see if the others followed Sean put the tracker in his pocket and started jogging towards the building. As he approached he saw the moonlight reflecting off something metallic. He was aware of the others fanning out behind him as they drew near the building. They sprang forward together but apart from the kidnapper’s vehicle there was no sign of anyone.

Pulling the tracker out of his pocket Sean looked at it. There was nothing showing there, no trace of Lan at all. Panic gripped him. “He’s gone!”

“Calm down, Sean,” Bodie said urgently. “Let's try to figure it out. Even if something had happened to Lan, the tracker wouldn't have stopped working. So what's the battery life like? How long would it last?”

“Twelve hours. And it was fully charged before Lan went into the club tonight,” Jack answered.

“Range?” Doyle asked.

“A couple of miles easily, and with the open fields around here, probably more.”

“Okay, so could it be blocked by something metallic?”

“Lead or steel, depending on the thickness.”

“Lead!” Sean suddenly felt sick. “Oh Christ. Like is used to line a coffin?”

“Don't jump to conclusions, Sean, Lan needs you to be strong and use your brain to help find him, so concentrate,” Bodie snapped.

Sean took a deep breath, Bodie was right, he needed to focus. “He could be underground.”

“Right,” Jack agreed.

“Exactly, and as this looks like a disused World War Two airfield there are bound to be old planning rooms below ground,” Bodie offered with a half smile.

“So, we need to start searching those buildings over there. There are four so we can take one each. If we find anything don’t go in alone, come and get the rest of us.” Doyle nodded towards the buildings Sean had indicated earlier.

“Let's go.” Sean started off towards the group of four buildings at a jog, leaving the others to catch up with him.

When Sean reached the nearest building he went inside. Fortunately the roof had fallen in or been removed so the moonlight allowed him to pick his way over the debris that littered the floor. He needed to find a way of getting underground. After several minutes spent fruitlessly searching the area Sean stopped and made himself take a deep breath. The moon went behind a cloud and Sean realised that blundering around in the near dark was not going to help at all. 

Remembering he’d picked up a torch, Sean pulled it out of his pocket and switched it on. He decided to make a careful check of the main walls of the building just in case there was a staircase hidden somewhere. He wasn’t sure how much he would find; he was an ex-copper not an ex-builder or architect. Suddenly, a shaft of moonlight came out from behind a cloud and shone directly on an irregularly shaped heap of stones. He’d seen them and dismissed them as a pile of rubble but now Sean looked more closely He could see that the heap of stones was actually a bit like an old coal holder; the sort they used to have in gardens in his native Sheffield thirty years ago and before central heating and smokeless fuel pushed out traditional coal fires. It was built against one of the external walls and had a doorway to one side, tilted away from the entrance to the room, possibly to protect the doorway against blast damage coming through the entrance.

Hoping he was making progress with finding Lan, Sean walked over to the doorway and, standing to one side first, he shone his torch down the staircase to see what was there.

There was no sign of movement but Sean wasn’t going to wait indefinitely to check this out. Lan could be down there and in all sorts of trouble. The tracker was still showing nothing and Sean’s heart sank when he realised that there could be underground rooms associated with any of the buildings the others were checking out.

Throwing aside any ideas of caution, he started to descend the stairs, resting his left hand against the rough surface of the wall. The smell that hit him when he reached level ground again was nauseatingly familiar and one he’d hoped never to experience again. Trying to breath shallowly, in spite of his heart beating out of his chest in fear for Lan, Sean ignored the stench of death and set about finding his lover. When he caught up with the bastard who had taken Lan, his life would not be worth a brass farthing.


	11. Wednesday 30th October (cont'd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan's situation is dire and he learns more about the man who took him and why he became a serial killer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got home yesterday after a wonderful month's holiday so, to celebrate, here's the next chapter!

Lan was distantly aware of someone talking to him. He could hear the sounds but not the words. He shook his head, why didn't they leave him alone? He was too tired to talk to anyone and his head hurt. He didn't remember why his head hurt, as far as he could recall he hadn't had that much to drink. But if he'd got that drunk then why was he sitting upright on something hard? Why wasn't he in bed and lying down? Maybe if he could make his mouth work he could ask Sean where he was and beg him to find some aspirin. 

He felt a stinging sensation and his head rolled to one side as someone slapped his face none too gently. “What?” he managed to mumble. Surely Sean couldn’t be that pissed off with him?

“Wake up.” 

He tried to rub his face with his hand but realised his hands were held above his head somehow. When he tried to pull them down, there was a rattling sound which his painfully slow brain told him was the sound chains made clanking against the wall. Letting his head fall back against the wall, Lan groaned.

“I said wake up.”

When he heard the voice again, Lan realised it wasn't Sean's familiar accent, it was from much further north, maybe Newcastle? He felt his face begin to throb as he was slapped again and he managed to crack his eyes open. Wherever he was it was dark with only a small lamp burning in the distance. There was someone standing in front of him but the figure was in silhouette so he couldn't make out the man's features. It was definitely a man because he was a big bastard, at least as tall as Sean and a lot wider.

“Good you're awake. I want you awake so we can get to know each other.”

Forcing himself to calm down he tried to think the situation through but it was hard because his head was still so fuzzy. What the fuck had happened to him?

Something heavy landed on his shoulder and he was shaken roughly. The sensation made Lan feel sick and he instinctively tried to squirm away.

“No.” The word was uttered with finality and the hand gripped his neck, squeezing warningly.

“What?” Lan mumbled.

“You will not resist or fight me.”

Lifting his head, Lan tried again to make out the features of the man standing in front of him but his vision was still hindered by the lack of light. Maybe if his eyes could adjust some more he’d be able to see the face of the man who’d brought him here.

“Where am I?” His voice was hoarse and Lan wished for something to drink.

“No questions.”

“But –”

The blow rocked his head on his shoulders and made him see stars.

“No, I said no questions. Unless you want me to remind you again, keep your mouth shut.” 

The accent stirred his memory and it came back with such a rush that he felt light-headed. It was, Greg, the guy he met in the bar, who was kidnapping men and making them vanish without trace. Greg, who he’d dismissed as mostly harmless but was far from it. Lan hadn’t seen him slip the drug into his drink and he’d been watching for something just like that. Shit! He must have snatched him from the bar but that was okay because the Sean and the others would be tracking him and even now they could be close by, just waiting to take this bastard down. Despite the risk, Lan knew he had to keep Greg talking.

“Why have you brought me here?”

He barely saw the blow coming and this time he was thrown back against the wall; his head impacted with it and everything greyed out for a few seconds.

In a sudden move Greg grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him up from his sitting position and then in a move so quick it made his head spin again, shoved him back against the wall. Pain exploded in his back as he hit the uneven surface and sharp edges jabbed into him. Greg released him and he sank onto his knees, his hands lifted over his head and his back bowed to try to stop his arms being pulled out of their sockets.

Leaning down, Greg hissed in his ear, “That’s your last warning. I didn’t think you were stupid but maybe I’m going to have to reconsider my opinion.” He lifted his hand again threateningly.

Unable to respond because all the air had been knocked out of him, Lan shook his head frantically to get Greg to stop. He wasn’t going to be able to do anything to help himself if he was out cold.

Lan watched as Greg walked over and picked up the lamp that was the only source of light within the room. The shadows thrown on Greg’s face as he carried the lamp closer made him look like some sort of demon and Lan couldn’t stop himself from shuddering.

Greg placed the lamp on the floor several feet away from Lan and came to stand in front of him. 

“Stand up,” Greg ordered.

Holding onto the chains and using them for support, Lan climbed slowly to his feet. He considered playing for time and pretending he was still too weak to rise but Greg’s previous actions had convinced Lan not to take any risks or anger him any further.

Once he was upright, Greg moved closer still, crowding Lan and forcing him back against the wall. With swift movements Greg began drawing the chains through the rings high above Lan’s head. As the tension on his hands increased Lan tried to resist, pulling ineffectually against the manacles around his wrists.

His eyes having adjusted to the poor light, Lan saw Greg’s mouth twist into a brief half smile before he jabbed two fingers into the pressure point under Lan’s left arm. Pain shot through his body, leaving him breathless and retching. Lan didn’t fight the movement any longer, allowing Greg to pull on the chains until Lan’s arms were stretched above his head. Greg fastened the chains off leaving Lan half standing and half dangling helplessly against the wall.

Resting one arm on the wall, Greg leaned in, the other hand running slowly along the side of Lan’s face. 

“See, it isn’t so hard, is it?”

“What isn’t?” Lan whispered, his voice cracking.

“Doing what I want.”

“Why am I here?” Lan decided to risk asking the question as Greg had answered his previous one.

“Because I want you here.” Greg’s hand had travelled down until it was resting against Lan’s throat.

“What for?”

“I want to help you. I saw how upset you were when he ditched you and I knew I could end your pain.”

Dreading the answer but knowing his only hope was to delay, Lan asked, “How can you do that?”

Greg squeezed, cutting off Lan’s air supply for what seemed like an age. “No more questions,” he whispered, abruptly releasing the pressure against Lan’s windpipe.

Lan sagged limply against the wall, his chest heaving with the effort of getting his breath back. The cavalry had better arrive bloody quickly or this was going to get even nastier. His life was in Greg’s hands and at any point he could stop talking and kill him instead. 

Without thinking Lan shook his head. He realised instantly that it was the wrong thing to do. Greg's stance changed; he drew himself up straight and his shoulders seemed to get larger and more rigid. Then he started pacing up and down the room, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“You're just like the rest of them; pretending you need my help and then rejecting me. They told me I'd never find someone, that they'd ruin me for anyone else.”

Trying to reclaim the situation Lan asked, “Who told you that? Who said those things to you?”

“The men in my unit. They saw me one night talking to a bloke in a pub. When we left the bar, they came after us. They beat the other man up but they said they'd show me what happened to someone who disgraced the regiment. They said they'd show me what it was like to have a cock up my arse so that I'd change my mind and go back to women.”

Lan said in horror, “They raped you?”

Greg stopped pacing abruptly, moving closer until he was right up in Lan's face causing Lan to shrink back against the wall once more.

“They said it wasn't rape, that it couldn't be rape because I liked it. I liked it so fucking much that I came every time they did it!” Greg spat the words out.

“Greg, they were wrong, they shouldn't have forced you.”

“But you see that's just it, they weren't wrong. I loved it when they did it; it felt so good I just kept coming over and over. The only way I've found to feel like that again is to help men like you, the ones who've been dumped.”

“How many men have you helped, Greg?” Lan knew he had to ask the question but was absolutely sure he didn’t want to know the answer.

“So many. I don't remember. Most of them were like you and pretended they didn't need my help. But I know it's just because they couldn't admit to themselves that I made them feel good.”

“Did you help men in other cities too?” Lan said desperately. 

“Oh yes, I have to help them so they don't go through what I went through.”

Greg moved closer still and Lan couldn't stop himself from shrinking back against the wall. When he was close enough, Greg whispered, “I want to tell you a secret. You're the last one I'm going to help in Bristol. I've already been here too long but there were so many men who needed me.”

“Those other men, Greg, where are they?”

He made an offhand gesture to one side. “Oh, there are a lot of rooms down here. They’re all there.”

“Are they dead?” Lan’s mental clock was telling him that his friends should have been here already but Greg had said down here so that probably meant he was underground and the tracker wouldn't work here. So unless Sean and the others had managed to keep Greg in sight they would have to search the area to get access to these rooms.

“Dead?” Greg turned on Lan, slapping him so hard that his head bounced back against the wall, stunning him again. “Of course they're dead; I had to make them stop screaming.”

While Lan was dazed, Greg released the chains and freed one wrist using it to pull Lan around so that he was facing the wall. 

Guessing this might be his only opportunity, Lan kicked out aiming for Greg's knee, at the same time trying to wrench his arm away. But Greg had been in the military and his training far exceeded anything Lan had ever been taught. Side-stepping the attempted kick, Greg seized Lan's hair, turned and pushed the side of his face hard against the rough wall.

Greg was reaching for another manacle to restrain his free hand when Lan made out footsteps coming towards the room. The way Greg stopped and half turned, looking showed Lan that he had heard them too. Wanting to warn his friends Lan shouted, “Help! I'm here, be careful-” 

He didn't manage to say anything else before Greg grabbed his head again and smashed it with even more force against the wall. Hanging onto consciousness through sheer willpower, Lan grabbed at the chains to keep himself upright, making them rattle against the wall.

Through blurred vision, Lan saw Greg pick up a baseball bat before heading towards the doorway. 

Sean came charging through the doorway without any care for his own safety. He managed to avoid Greg's first swing with the baseball bat but the weapon returned too quickly for Sean to avoid it a second time. The bat impacted with his head and Sean went down like a felled tree and didn't move. 

“Sean! No!” Lan's anguished cry pulled Greg's attention back towards him.

“You tricked me! I can see it now; you planned this to find me.” As Greg stalked closer, Lan tried to lash out with his free hand and a foot but Greg skipped easily out of reach before closing in and bringing the baseball bat down on Lan's outstretched arm.

Lan heard the bone snap and couldn't stop the scream of pain that came from him as he stumbled and fell back against the wall. He cradled his arms against his chest as Greg came closer, raising the bat over his head. Lan knew if the stroke landed it would smash his skull like an eggshell. He closed his eyes waiting for the blow to fall.

Hearing the hollow thud as the baseball bat was dropped onto the ground, Lan snapped his eyes open and looked around. 

Greg had stopped a couple of feet away and when Lan looked at him, he smiled. “I told you I was going to leave after you but as he is here there might be others so I haven't got time to do this properly now.”

Walking over to the other side of the room Greg raised his voice so that Lan could hear him. “I've had this planned for a while. I've set some explosives around the room; they're on a delay timer so I've got time to get out before they bring the ceiling down.”

Sean wasn’t moving and in the dim light Lan couldn’t make out if he was still breathing. Fighting the feeling of nausea that made him want to retch, Lan didn’t bother to respond to Greg. The bastard was going to bring the roof down on them, so what else could he threaten them with? 

Lan gazed sorrowfully at Sean; it wasn't the first time they had stared death in the face but this looked like it would be the last. How ironic; it wasn't even Halloween yet.


	12. Wednesday 30th October (cont'd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Help arrives but is it too late for Sean and Lan?

Doyle had searched the building allocated to him, finding nothing. When he got outside he saw Bodie coming in his direction. “Any luck?”

“No.” Bodie almost grunted his response.

“Hopefully Sean or Cartwright is having more success so let's go and find them.”

A few yards further on Doyle spotted a figure coming out of the next building in the row, fortunately, the moon came out from behind the cloud and he saw Cartwright's light-coloured hair. 

“Nothing in there?” Doyle asked.

“No, nothing at all.”

“Which means he’s in the last building, the one Sean is searching. Come on, he’ll need our help.” Bodie threw the last words over his shoulder as he turned towards the final structure.

They reached the doorway together; the door had long gone and the wooden surround with it. Doyle let Cartwright go first and no sooner had he put one foot across the threshold than another figure came hurtling out of the gloom inside the building, heading for the door. He careened into Cartwright who hit the ground with a muffled thump. The runner hurdled his body and ploughed onwards, no doubt heading for his car and freedom.

“Grab him, Bodie, we can't let him get away and start killing people somewhere else!” Doyle yelled.

Following his directions, his partner made a grab for the killer but missed when the man slipped to one side, his body curving like an eel. With a curse Doyle took off after him, with Bodie in close pursuit.

He'd always been a good sprinter and in no time Doyle had almost drawn level with the killer. Throwing himself forward, he managed to catch him around the waist and, holding on tightly, he let his momentum pull the other man over. Before he could put up a fight, Bodie had arrived and between them they rapidly pinned the man face down. Ray produced a set of handcuffs and secured the kidnapper’s hands behind him. 

“Where is he you piece of shit?” Bodie kicked him in the side none too gently, forcing him to roll over.

The man was lying on his back with his arms trapped underneath him, which, Doyle knew, had to be uncomfortable.

“Who?”

“Our friend, the man you drugged and hauled out of the club earlier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Crouching, Bodie took hold of the man’s collar and pulled him upwards before snapping a short sharp jab to his face. “I saw you with him. I saw you put him in your car. The same car that’s parked over in that building.” 

Bodie let go and the killer fell backwards, his mouth bleeding. He licked at the blood on his lip and smiled again. “You're too late. He and his boyfriend are dead.”

Being marginally faster, Bodie managed to grab the kidnapper by his collar and haul him to his feet before Doyle could reach him.

“You bastard, you'd better hope you’re wrong or I guarantee you won't last long enough to see the inside of a police cell, never mind a courtroom,” Bodie ground out before sinking a punch into the man's gut and letting him fall onto the rough ground.

Grabbing Bodie's arm, Doyle said urgently, “Wait, he said Sean was there too which means they are in the last building. We need to go and get them out and not waste time on this piece of shit.”

“Okay, but we'll need to find somewhere to secure him so he can't get away.”

“There's bound to be something we can handcuff him to over there, so let's go.”

Dragging the killer up again by the simple expedient of grabbing his shirt collar and pulling until he stumbled to his feet Bodie began herding him back towards the buildings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Through a haze of pain and anguish, Lan tried to get closer to Sean. He hadn’t moved at all and Lan knew that was a bad sign. An incautious move jarred his broken arm and he couldn’t hold back a cry of pain. Suddenly, he heard the sound of footsteps. He knew it couldn’t be Greg, coming back to taunt them, because he’d set his explosives before leaving a few minutes ago.

He stared at the doorway and it was with relief that he managed to identify Jack’s familiar shape as he crashed through the doorway.

“Jack!” To his own ears his voice seemed feeble.

“Lan, are you okay?” Jack started towards him.

“Look after Sean. He’s hurt.” Lan begged, pointing at his lover’s body and ignoring Jack’s concern.

“Sean? Oh shit!” Jack fell to his knees beside Sean, reaching at once for the pulse point in his neck.

With his heart in his mouth, “He's not dead?” Lan asked haltingly.

“No, he's alive.” Jack looked up at him with a slight smile on his face. 

His head swimming, Lan said urgently, “Please, Jack, you have to listen to me. Greg, the killer, he left a bomb; he's going to destroy this room and the others down here to hide the bodies. You’ve got to help me to get Sean out.”

“Right.” In a swift move, Jack pulled Sean into a sitting position and managed to get him over his shoulder. He started for the stairs and only then noticed that Lan wasn’t following. “Come on, Lan. You need to hurry. We don’t know how long we have before the bomb goes off.”

“I’m sorry, Jack, I can’t.”

“What? Are you hurt?” Jack stood in the doorway with Sean’s limp form steadied over his shoulder.

“No, but I’m chained here and he took the key with him. I can’t get out.”

“Fuck it, Lan, I can’t just leave you here.”

“Just take Sean and go. There isn’t time to get something to cut the chain. Please I'm begging you, just get Sean out.” Lan could see Jack weighing up the situation and knew there wasn't time for deliberation. “Please. For me…”

“I'll get him out and we’ll come back for you.”

“Just promise to take care of him. Tell him I’ll love him always. Please…” Lan felt tears slipping down his cheeks but he paid them no attention. The most important thing now was to save Sean.

With a last look at Lan, Jack headed for the stairs.

Lan watched them go and prayed Jack would reach the open air before the bomb went off. He wasn't sure how much explosive Greg had planted but felt sure with his military background it would be enough to destroy the room he was in and the whole of the underground complex.

Seconds ticked by and Lan found himself holding his breath waiting for his time to run out. The explosion, when it came was deafening. Lan curled himself up into a ball, hoping against hope that it would protect him somewhat. The blast picked him up and threw him against the wall. He hung there for what seemed like hours before crumpling onto the ground. For several moments there was nothing but ringing in his ears and then the ceiling gave way and debris began to rain down on him. Several large pieces of wreckage landed on him and he experienced several moments of excruciating pain, before sinking into oblivion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bodie had barely got back to the building when the ground shuddered and moved under their feet. Thrusting their prisoner at Doyle to hold, Bodie launched himself towards the entrance just as Cartwright came through it with Sean over his shoulders.

They all ended up on the ground as the building collapsed in on itself like a house of cards in a gust of wind.

“Where's Lando?” Doyle was the only one still standing.

Cartwright looked around at the wreckage of the structure. “Oh shit. He's buried under that lot. He told me that bastard had set a bomb to destroy the evidence.”

Bodie stood and stalked over to Cartwright, where he was crouched over Sean. “Why didn't you get him out too?”

“I couldn't. He was chained to the wall. I had no way of cutting the chain. He begged me to take Sean out.”

Ray forced the prisoner to his knees, his gun aimed at the back of his neck. “Don’t move a muscle or I’ll put a bullet in you.”

Bodie crouched down beside Sean checking his vital signs.

Doyle’s heart sank, Sean was unconscious or worse and Lan was buried under tons of rubble. It wasn’t the right time to say I told you so but he wanted to, Christ how he wanted to.

“Cartwright, come over here and look after the prisoner.”

Doyle waited until Cartwright had assumed his place and walked over to Bodie. “How’s Sean doing?”

“Not good. He’s breathing but it’s laboured. There’s lots of blood but I’m not sure if it is all from the head wound, some of it may be coming from his ear. We need to get him some help and quickly.”

“Okay, Cartwright, stay with the prisoner and if he moves a muscle shoot him, preferably in the knee. I’m going to go and radio for help. We’ll need a team with heavy lifting equipment to dig Lan out and a chopper to get Sean to hospital.”

“Ray?” Bodie looked up from where he was crouched beside Sean.

“Yeah?”

“Make them hurry.”

“I'll do my damnedest.”


	13. Wednesday 30th October (cont'd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last Lan learns more about the history of his family and Roger Fitzwalter

When Lan woke he was assailed by pain. His arm and head were both throbbing in agony. It was also pitch black. When it sank in that he'd been buried alive, horror overcame him and he let himself fall back into the welcome arms of unconsciousness. 

Eventually, he swam slowly back to awareness, fading in and out for some time before the agony from his arm brought him fully awake. His first thought was that he wasn’t completely covered in rubble. Then, he grew concerned how long his air would last and what it would feel like to suffocate. Was there enough trapped to keep him alive until help arrived? He'd heard that carbon monoxide poisoning was a relatively painless death. That you simply fell asleep as the amount of the gas in your blood grew to toxic levels.

Once his head had cleared a little and in an attempt to take his mind off his injuries, Lan felt around with his good arm and legs, trying to work out how much space he had. He couldn’t feel any walls or other solid obstacles around him so the space was at least six feet long and three feet wide. He was half sitting so the roof had to be at least three feet above him. Multiplying the numbers to work out the volume of space he was occupying was beyond him and even if he had been able to, he didn’t know how quickly he would use the air.

At least Jack had got Sean out and he must have had enough time to get him to safety before the cave in. Trying to make himself comfortable, Lan lay back against the piled up rubble. At least this way he would use as little oxygen as possible. To keep his mind occupied, Lan tried to dwell on the good times he and Sean had shared, especially the two holidays they'd had in Mykonos where they'd been able to appear as a couple without worrying about their jobs. Of course once they'd been outed and left the Force, it had all been academic.

With the darkness being absolute and impenetrable, Lan found himself straining his eyes to see. Deciding he may as well try to sleep to pass the time, Lan closed his eyes. The ground underneath him was rough and bits of debris dug into his arse. The chain attached to his wrist made it difficult for him to find a comfortable position for his arm but if he kept it as still as possible, at least then the pain faded to bearable proportions.

Eventually he slept.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Lan next opened his eyes he couldn’t be sure if he'd dozed at all, nothing had changed in his prison. As he strained to see anything he wondered if his arm was not just a simple break and that something had become infected already. He hadn't been able to feel any broken skin but it was a possibility. As he stared at a point towards where his feet were he thought it was getting lighter. Hope soared, that somehow they had managed to find him and dig him out. Perhaps he had slept for longer than he’d first thought?

But as the light grew stronger, he couldn't hear the sounds of machinery or even anyone digging by hand. No one was shouting to him, telling him they were on their way to get him out. Despite his acceptance that he was going to die another worse thought occurred to him, maybe he had been out of it for longer than he had intended and it was already Halloween and the light was Fitzwalter coming for him. If he had to die he would prefer not to give that bastard the satisfaction of being the one to finish him off. What confused him though was that even though the intensity of the illumination was increasing, there wasn't the feeling of coldness that he had noticed during Fitzwalter's previous visits. 

As his visibility improved, Lan could see the limits of his underground prison. It was low, and he'd been right with his estimate of around six feet by three but it was taller, maybe five feet high at the maximum. He couldn't even begin to estimate how much air that gave him but deep down he knew it wouldn't be enough. There had to be tons of rubble over his head and that wasn’t going to be shifted in a few hours.

Resigned to whatever hand fate was going to deal for him, Lan watched the glowing sphere increase in size, it grew more slowly than Fitzwalter had the previous year when he and Bodie had met with him after the events in Cheddar Gorge and there was still not that feeling of menace Lan had always associated with the vengeful ghost.

The figure got larger and became more solid until Lan could see the outline clearly. The shape was familiar and with horror Lan wondered if it was Sean now appearing to him and his lover had been so badly hurt by Greg that he had died as a result of his injuries. Oh shit! He mouth was dry and he had to put his head down to stop himself passing out. If it was Sean and he really was dead then Lan would welcome the end with open arms as long as they could be together.

The figure solidified and as more details became clear Lan saw with relief that it wasn't Sean; it was the same man he had seen in the church in Westonzoyland, when he'd had the vision of Thomas. So who was this? The overwhelming feeling Lan got about him wasn't one of danger.

Lan turned slightly, to face the spirit and jarred his arm, forcing an involuntary groan from him again.

“Thomas? Is that you?” A voice came from the ball of light.

“Bloody hell, for the last time I'm not Thomas.” Lan knew he should be more polite but he was hurt, buried alive and was going to die. He'd used up all his tact and diplomacy for the month. The thought made him almost giggle and he wondered if he was becoming light-headed through oxygen deprivation already.

“If you are not Thomas then you must be his kin.”

“It’s a bit fuzzy at the moment but I'm his eight times grandson, I think. Who are you and how do you know Thomas? More importantly, can you tell me why Roger Fitzwalter is trying to kill me?”

The man moved closer, which looked distinctly odd to Lan as his feet and lower part of his legs were inside the rock floor of his prison but he supposed it was better than it being his head. He finally sat down, in mid-air, a couple of feet from Lan, so that he could see the same rough, old fashioned clothes Lan had seen in his vision in the church.

“'Tis a long story.” The ghost spoke with a soft West Country accent which was now familiar to Lan. “But you are hurt.”

Lan shrugged, careful not to jar his injured arm. “I've got time and unless you’re a doctor there’s nothing you can do about my arm.”

“I would not be so sure, I have some power.”

The light from the spirit grew so bright that Lan had to shield his eyes. He felt warmth on his arm and then miraculously, the pain lessened substantially.

“What did you do? Is the bone healed?” Lan asked incredulously.

The ghost shook his head sadly. “I do not have that skill but I have lessened the hurt for a time.”

“Thank you.” Lan sank back against the wall, he kept his arm close to his chest but the absence of pain helped immeasurably. 

“I would like to relate my story so what name shall I use if you are not a Thomas?”

“Orlando. My name is Orlando but friends call me Lan or Lando.”

“I hope we are friends, Lando, you see I have the honour to be your kin also. My name is Edward Hobbes, but Thomas always called me Ned.”

“Does that mean Thomas is going to show up here too?”

“No, Thomas is at peace and has been for many years. But I will explain if you will give me leave. It is a long story but I shall relate it and all will become apparent about the curse of Roger Fitzwalter and the fate of your kin at the Battle of Sedgemoor and after.”

“I knew it had something to do with the battle so please tell me why he has been after me and endangering Sean's life for the last five years.”

“Thomas was the youngest child in our family, I was next oldest by two years, there were only us, our oldest brother Richard with his family and our sister Abigail still at home. When rumour reached us that the Duke had landed in Lyme Regis that fateful June, we were agog to hear the news. 

“King James was a papist and was threatening to turn the whole land to Catholicism so when King Monmouth came to Bridgewater Thomas and I left our home and went to join his army.”

“King Monmouth? I didn’t think he was ever crowned. And wouldn’t he have been King James III if he had been?”

“Tis true, he wasn’t crowned officially, but his supporters crowned him in Taunton on the twentieth of June. We called him King Monmouth to tell him apart from the papist king in London.”

“Didn’t your parents have something to say about you going off to join him? You were both so young.”

“Aye, we knew father wouldn’t have given us leave so we crept out at dead of night. I know now it was an ill-made decision but at the time the thought of something besides the constant hardship of scraping enough from the soil to feed our family was alluring.

“We followed the army for several weeks around the country and by early in the month of July men were beginning to grow weary and slip away, back to their homes. We should have done the same but the respite from the long hours behind a plough was enough for us.

“Eventually, Monmouth led his army here to Westonzoyland, intending to launch a night attack on the King’s men. We were there for the battle and I won't speak of the horrors I saw that night. When it began to get light and I saw that all hope was lost, I told Thomas we should slip away. He was only a boy and had been terrified by the fighting and having men cut down beside him. I promised him I would see him safe and get him home but in the panic of the rout, we were separated. I had left the battlefield and was hiding in a ditch when I saw him being chased along with two other fellows by a group of horsemen. They cut the others down but perhaps because Tom could run faster, they toyed with him, letting him think he could escape before they brought him down. They tied him to their saddle and made him run along behind their horses. I found out later that the leader of the group was Captain Roger Fitzwalter. He took a fancy to Thomas and suggested Thomas could earn his freedom if he shared his favours with Fitzwalter and his friends. 

“But he was only fifteen, I've seen his date of birth written in our family bible.”

“Aye, but that didn't mean anything to the bastards. They had slaughtered so many poor, simple lads that they were carried away with blood lust and had lost all sense of decency. Being a God-fearing lad Tom refused and they took him away and threw him into the church with countless others. I was torn, I had promised to protect him but giving myself up wouldn't have helped, so, I decided to go home and try to find a way to free him.”

“But surely Fitzwalter hasn't been killing our family because Thomas refused to have sex with him? The first time I saw him he said something about Thomas killing his family with witchcraft.”

“No, that isn't the truth.”

Lan suddenly remembered the vision he'd had at the church when he and Sean had visited earlier that year. “But I saw you both there in the church after the battle.”

“You saw us? Does that mean you have inherited the talent that runs in Thomas' line?”

“Talent? I don't know if you'd call it that but I see things, visions which tell me things. Fitzwalter told me once that I was the most powerful of Thomas' descendants. Does that mean Thomas' had visions too?”

“Nay, he didn't. It was something that entered his bloodline from his marriage overseas. His wife had the gift of foresight and it has come down through the centuries.”

“He married in America, didn't he? I remember that from the records I saw.”

“Yes, he was transported for his crimes against King James and ended up in a place called Massachusetts, in one of the early colonies.”

“Oh shit! I remember now, he lived in Salem, where they had the witch trials. So if the gift came from his wife maybe there was something to it all.”

“Many innocents died there; the gift you share with your ancestors is not evil, merely uncommon. But we run ahead of our story. As you say you saw me in the church. I had almost reached home when I was captured by another party of horsemen. They took me back to the church and I will never know a sight more hellish than that.”

“It was awful and I was only there for a couple of minutes.”

“It is not an easy gift you bear, Lando, is it?”

Lan shook his head.

“If you close your eyes and relax I can show you what happened next. That is if you wish to know the full horror in which Tom found himself?”

It wasn't a difficult decision to make for Lan. He desperately wanted to know the truth about Thomas' relationship with Fitzwalter because there had been times when he had wondered if the ghost had spoken the truth and that Thomas had been responsible for the death of Fitzwalter's family. Closing his eyes, Lan tried to relax. 

“Show me, please.”


	14. 7th July 1685

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned's story

The church door clanged shut behind him and Ned looked around frantically for Thomas. He had to be here. The soldiers had told him that all rebel prisoners were being held in St Mary’s church. 

“Thomas!” Ned shouted, having little hope his voice would be heard above the awful noises the wounded were making; their cries of pain drowning out all other sounds.

But his prayers were answered when a smaller figure pushed its way towards him. The moment Thomas reached him; Ned sank to his knees in relief. 

Gasping, he asked, “Thomas, I saw them take you, are you hurt?”

“Nay, merely bruised. But, no matter about me, how are you, Ned?”

“I’m well, merely tired.” Ned replied.

“Come, let me help you, there is some space over near the altar. We can both rest there.” 

Unable to move by himself, Ned was thankful when Thomas helped him to his feet and moved them away from the doorway.

“How did they catch you?” Thomas asked, as soon as they were settled.

“The men who took me said they were looking out for me. Apparently Walter Reed informed on us. They told me they would hang me there and then, but as Alice’s father is a local magistrate, he wouldn’t let them kill me out of hand.”

“And Walter Reed had eyes for Alice. Mayhap he thought if he got you out of the way she would marry him instead,” Thomas said.

Ned nodded wearily. “You may well be right, little brother.”

“Do you know what’s going to happen to us now? Will they let us go home?”

Older and wiser than his brother Ned shook his head sadly. “I don’t think so, Thomas. One of the troopers told me that they are sending a judge called Jeffries down from London to conduct trials. The King wants an end to this business quickly so those found guilty of rebellion will hang.”

“Hang?” Thomas repeated the word and abruptly sank down onto the cold stone floor shaking his head. “No. Please no. I can’t.”

“Courage, Thomas. I’m sure we will think of something.”

Turning his tear-streaked face towards Ned, Thomas said, “Remember last summer? The vagrant who stole Henry Adams cow? They hanged him in the market square.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Parson Ross made us watch it. He said it would stop us from becoming sinners ourselves,” Thomas sobbed. “His eyes bulged out and his face turned a horrible colour. Then when he finally died, he emptied his bladder and bowels, I remember how bad it smelled and the people watching laughed.”

Ned pulled his brother into his arms and held him, stroking his back. He was still so young. “Shhh. We’ll find a way to make sure it doesn’t happen to you.”

Clinging to his brother tearfully Thomas said, “I’m scared. I wish I'd never left home to follow Monmouth.”

“I know, lad. Don’t worry; we’ll cheat the hangman yet. You know I’ll look after you, like I always have.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They waited in the church for a further day, during which time more men were thrown into the church and they were given nothing except stale bread and water. The conditions grew worse and more of the wounded died until Thomas knew they were the lucky ones and wished he could perish too. Ned had tried to talk to him at first to keep up his spirits but soon the effort was too much and they just sat side by side in silence, Thomas finding huge comfort in his brother's presence.

On the following day the main doors of the church were thrown open and one of the officers Thomas had seen when he was captured entered. Holding a kerchief to his face against the smell he shouted out, “I am Colonel Percy Kirke and you are prisoners of one of the finest regiments in the King’s army. My men have fought in Tangier and are well trained so resistance will be dealt with harshly. You are all being taken to Wells to stand trial. Any man who falls behind on the march will die. Trying to escape is futile. Anyone who attempts it will hang by the roadside along with ten others.” He turned and gestured to the soldiers standing behind him, “Get them all outside. At least the smell should improve.”

On unsteady legs Thomas followed Ned outside into the bright sunshine. Blinking against the glare he joined the line of men. Soon the only ones left inside the church were the weak and wounded. They were kept waiting there as a group of soldiers entered the church. There was silence for a moment then they heard screams and pleas for mercy as the wounded were killed.

The prisoners surged forward as though they would try to avert the slaughter but a line of levelled pikes soon stopped them. In moments they were forced to begin the long march to Wells, it was nearly ten miles and Thomas knew full well that many of those in the column wouldn’t be able to walk that far. 

They marched until noon, when they were allowed to stop for a rest. Collapsing on the grass beside the road, Thomas closed his eyes and tried not to think of what would happen to them next.

Thomas woke to sounds of shouting and he sat up quickly and looked around. Beside him Ned was also struggling to sit up. “What’s going on?” Thomas asked.

“Bloody fool! He’s trying to run for it,” Ned cursed.

“What?” Thomas moved onto his knees and in the distance he could see a fleeing figure pursued by three men on horseback. In moments the riders had overtaken him and knocked him to the ground. One jumped off his horse and tied the prisoner’s wrists, much like had happened to Thomas when he was captured. But this time instead of moving at a trot so that he could keep up, the riders began to canter their horses so that the man was dragged along behind them. When they arrived back at the main group they let the man lie where he had fallen while a group of soldiers threw ropes over the branches of a nearby tree. When ten nooses hung from the branches the Colonel stepped forward. He gestured at a covered bucket that the sergeant standing beside him was holding, and then shouted at the prisoners. “Each of you will take a pebble from the bucket and hold it up on your outstretched palm. When I ask, those of you with a white pebble will stand forward; those with any other colour will stay in the ranks.” He smiled evilly. “Don’t think any of you traitorous bastards can fool me, we’ll be checking the colours of those not selected this time and if I find you’ve lied I’ll slit your bloody throat myself right where you stand.”

The sergeant reached Ned first and he put his hand into the bucket. Opening his hand he revealed a dark coloured stone. Thomas took his turn and waited, not wanting to open his hand. 

“Come on, Thomas. Let me see,” Ned urged.

“No! I can’t!”

“We have to know now while they are still distracted.” Grabbing Thomas’s fist, Ned forced his hand over and then pulled open the clenched fingers. A white stone shone against his filthy palm.

Numbly, Thomas looked at his brother until Ned quickly swapped the stones over, pushing the darker coloured one into Thomas’s hand and snatching the white one away.

“No!” Thomas cried. “Don’t! Please!”

Pulling the slighter figure of his brother against his chest Ned whispered in Thomas’ ear, “I promised I’d always take care of you.”

Thomas shook his head desperately, “No you can’t do this. Let’s both run now while they’re not looking. If we head for the trees they can’t follow on horseback.”

Forcing Thomas to look at him Ned said, “No, Thomas. If we run another twenty men will die here. We can’t be the cause of that.”

“It doesn’t matter! We are all going to die eventually; you told me we were all going to hang. Before or after a trial, what difference does it make?”

“Because I think they will commute some sentences to transportation. You have to take the chance that you will live, little brother.”

“All those with white stones will step forward now!” Kirke barked.

Thomas clung to Ned trying to stop him from moving. “No! It’s not your turn!”

A soldier came over to see what the fuss was about and laughed, “We’ve got another rope if you want to hang alongside him, boy.”

“He doesn’t.” Ned shouted, pushing Thomas into the arms of the man standing alongside “Keep him safe,” he begged.

Turning, Ned smiled at him, “Just promise me one thing, Tom. When my turn comes don’t watch. I don’t think I can be brave enough to go through with this if I know you’ll see.”

Helpless to move and too choked by tears, Thomas could only nod. 

It seemed like days before the grisly business was over and the column was ready to move on. But Thomas remembered his promise and didn’t look back, not once, even though he wouldn’t have been able to see anything through the tears blurring his vision.


	15. 31st October 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan learns more about Thomas and his feud with Fitzwalter and Ned has a plan...

Lan opened his eyes and tried to sit up, jostling his injured arm as he did so. He yelped in pain and the ghost of Ned Hobbes, looked at him with concern. “Does it pain you again? How were you hurt?”

Lan ignored Ned’s question. The visions he’d been shown explained so much and at the same time humbled him. Ned’s sacrifice to save his younger brother had taken such courage and love. 

“Don’t worry about me, Ned. I have so much to thank you for. If you hadn’t taken Thomas’s place I wouldn’t be here and would never have met Sean.”

“Who is Sean? It sounds from your words that he is special to you. ”

“Sean's my partner and my lover.”

“Sean is male? Is that not frowned upon in this time still?”

“Yes and no. It's complicated. It is not illegal for a man to love another man any longer but we are not allowed the same rights as a man and a woman who are married. We lost our jobs because we were together even though that sort of discrimination is really illegal.”

“Times do not appear to have changed dramatically since my day,” Ned said thoughtfully.

“What happened after you…? Do you know?”

“After I died? Yes, I know. Because of my promise to take care of Thomas I didn't move on. I have stayed connected to the place of my death but I have been kept aware of our family history.”

“Does that mean I'm in Westonzoyland?”

“Yes. You are in an underground chamber built some fifty years ago. It was used during another conflict but this one was much bigger and took place many miles from here.”

“The Second World War...”

“World wars? Wars involving the whole world? The carnage must have been terrible surely, with many thousands perishing?”

“Sometimes there are millions of deaths. Tell me, Ned, did they have flying machines above us during that conflict?”

“Yes, they did, and it was wondrous to see them flying through the air without any means of support.”

“That means I'm beneath the old Westonzoyland airfield.”

“Aye, if you mean where the flying machines were stabled.”

“Tell me, if you can't leave the village because you are tied here, how can Fitzwalter appear all over the place? I saw him twice in London and once over in Cheddar.”

“It is simple. His power is based on hate and he rests in consecrated ground. I have only my promise to Thomas and my love for his descendants. My bones were laid outside the churchyard here, as are all those who died alongside me.”

“You mean you weren't buried in hallowed ground?”

“No, it was forbidden. Anyone who cut down the bodies was threatened with the same fate. We were eventually allowed to lie where we fell until some kind souls covered us with earth.”

“It doesn't seem fair that hate is stronger than love.”

“In most cases it isn't but Fitzwalter has had many years to stoke the fires of his hatred of Thomas's line. His evil builds his power and until you, no one has been able to stand against him.”

“Yeah? Well I've had friends and Sean's love to get me through.”

“This love between you and Sean must be mighty indeed, if it has kept you safe for many years.”

Lan remembered once more how he has last seen Sean, still and unmoving on the ground. “That is true, but he was hurt and I don't even know if he is still alive.”

Ned looked thoughtful for a moment. “Something tells me he is still alive. A love as great as yours would not be defeated by death alone.”

“You’re sure? Sean’s alive?” Lan said relief filling him. Jack must have got Sean to safety before the explosion. 

“I cannot be absolutely certain but something tells me if Sean had passed on, he would be here now with you.”

Suddenly Lan couldn’t hold back a yawn. “Sorry, I must be more tired than I realised.”

“No, it is not tiredness; it is a lack of air. That held within this chamber is becoming foul.” Ned responded.

“Oh. Maybe that's a good thing? I don't want Fitzwalter to have the satisfaction of killing me, this way I'll be gone before he appears at midnight. Can you finish Thomas’s story? Tell me what happened next to him and how he reached Massachusetts rather than the West Indies, where all the others transported ended up.”

“Aye, the story is simple enough. Thomas spent several weeks in a cell with many others in Wells gaol until the assizes reached them. During that time, Fitzwalter had returned home to his family who had been seized by some malady. They all perished. Driven mad with grief, Fitzwalter blamed Thomas. I have never discovered why. I think Fitzwalter became obsessed with Thomas when he refused to lie with him. It was apparent that Thomas could not have been personally responsible for their deaths as he was in gaol when it happened so Fitzwalter accused him of killing them through witchcraft and made accusations against him. Like many driven mad by grief he wanted to blame someone - anyone - for his loss.

“Fortunately for Thomas, by the time Fitzwalter reached Wells with a warrant for Thomas to be tested as a witch, he had already boarded a ship bound for the Indies. The ship, the King Charles, was caught in a terrible storm off the coast of Virginia and Thomas ended up ashore there. He avoided enslavement somehow and made his way north eventually settling in Massachusetts. I suspect he did not plan to return because he thought it would bring more trouble on our family if Fitzwalter learned of his reappearance.”

“Do you know what happened to Fitzwalter? How did he die?”

“A brawl in a tavern. He was stabbed and the wound festered, like his grief. He died only weeks after Thomas set sail.”

“I bet he blamed Thomas for that too.”

“Yes he did.”

His head felt fuzzy and Lan found it hard to get this thoughts in order. How did Ned know so much about what had happened? God he could hardly keep his eyes open. When he tried to make himself comfortable, the chain was too short and his broken arm pulled painfully, making him gasp in pain.

“Wait, Lando, I think I can loosen the chain somewhat.”

After a couple of moments the chain slackened and Lan was able to curl up on his side, his arm cradled close to his chest.

“Thank you.”

“I’m only sorry I could not remove the chain completely. The sight of my kin in chains brings back horrible memories. In years past, Fitzwalter would return Westonzoyland and seek me out. He would tell me tales of my kin and how he made them suffer while he knew I could do nothing because they were too far away.”

Lan felt a headache developing but despite his thoughts being all over the place he knew he had something important to share with Ned. “I look a lot like Thomas you know… In the images you showed me… I looked like that when I was younger…”

“Then I am gratified to see what sort of man Thomas would have grown into, Lan. I would have been proud to call you brother.”

Lan’s eyelids drooped and he found he was taking deep breaths to try to get enough oxygen into his blood at the same time his pulse was pounding in his head. “Can you tell Sean how much I love him? I didn't get the chance before.”

“He knows, Lando, he knows. How could he not?”

“Good.”

Lan closed his eyes and hoped that he would soon fall asleep, at least this way his passing would be peaceful. He heard a voice but this time it seemed to come from inside his mind.

“Lando? I have a proposition for you, this isn't something I have ever dared attempt before but I believe it will work. I can bring you closer to my world and slow your heart so that it beats rarely. As a consequence, your need for air will decrease and it might be enough to keep you alive until your friends find you. They are already up above trying to dig down to you. I also think it will confound Fitzwalter. He will believe you have already passed over. The only hazard is that I have not performed such an action before and I am not sure I can reverse the process safely.”

Lan thought about the suggestion for several minutes, slowly turning it over in his mind. There was a risk but he had nothing to lose and possibly everything to gain by allowing Ned to try. Trying to move his head as little as possible, Lan granted his permission with a curt nod.


	16. 31st October 1985 (cont'd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Halloween and approaching midnight. Can the rescuers reach Lan before the ghost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not posting last weekend - I was making cake for a charity event and it took the whole day!

Doyle watched as the crane rolled into position. It had taken hours to get enough equipment on site and then there had been setback after setback as the ground proved too damp to support the heavier lifting machinery. Doyle checked his watch just as Bodie walked over.

“Any news on Sean?”

“No change. He's in a coma and they still have no idea if or when he's going to wake up.”

“It's nearly midnight, any change on the reading from the infra-red scanner?”

“Yeah, it's not looking good. Lan’s body temperature is falling, very slowly but it is still lower than it should be. They managed to get a couple of microphones down there a few hours ago and whereas they could hear him mumbling to himself earlier the sounds have stopped. They tried ramping up the sensitivity but can't hear any sounds of breathing either.

“Shit!” Doyle’s heart sank. He’d been praying they would get to Lan in time.

Bodie sighed. “It looks bad.”

Doyle caught his partner's hand. “Whatever the outcome we're staying here until we know for sure. Then if Sean needs our support we'll be there for him too.”

Bodie nodded and Doyle only caught the movement because Bodie was standing between him and the flood-lamps being used to light the area where the team was working feverishly to get Lan out.

“How about Wootton? Has he given up any information on just how many men he has killed?”

“No, he's staying quiet so far but we've got him for attempted murder on both Sean and Lan. Depending what happens and what they find underground, that charge is likely to become more serious. He's probably going to end up in Broadmoor whatever happens; in fact I'll be surprised if he ends up standing trial at all.”

“Maybe.”

Bodie looked at his watch. “It's almost midnight.”

“Yeah, and I feel terrible that we're not there for Lan when he needs us. There's nothing we can do to stop the ghost now.”

On the stroke of midnight the man monitoring the microphone close to Lan waved Bodie over urgently. “Something's happening down below. I can't make it out.”

“Let me listen.” Bodie grabbed a set of headphones and put them on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fitzwalter conjured a light in the underground chamber, not that it was necessary, but he wanted his enemy to be aware that his final hour had come. He wanted the last scion of the accursed House of Hobbes to suffer his vengeance and experience agony before he descended into Hell. When the man didn’t react to his presence, Fitzwalter moved closer, allowing more light to flare around him.

With his mind he pushed at the man’s shoulder. “Finally, after many years, you are at my mercy. I will admit to you that you have proved harder to kill than any of your forefathers; mayhap the fact that you resemble him strongly and are the most powerful witch of them all is the reason. But now you are trapped here and cannot escape me you will feel my wrath and that of the Lord for the evil you carry within you.”

Exerting more force, Fitzwalter pushed again, harder this time until the man rolled slightly but any further movement was impeded by a chain that was attached to his wrist and from there to a point high up on the wall.

“Ha! Defeated and chained like an animal, nothing more than you deserve, spawn of Satan. My servant has done well. I do not regret allowing him to indulge his other less savoury desires.”

When the man still did not respond, Fitzwalter grew concerned. If he had been robbed of his last act of revenge, his servant would feel his fury. Letting loose a blast of energy, Fitzwalter watched as the descendent of the devil Hobbes did not react. Increasing the light still further and making a careful study of the man’s body Fitzwalter could make out the paleness of the man’s skin and the tinge of blue around his mouth. 

Anger swept through him, after all these years he’d been cheated of his vengeance, his opportunity to destroy the last in the line of Hobbes. For several minutes Fitzwalter howled with inarticulate rage. But slowly, the fury subsided and a feeling of peace descended. His task was done and now he could find his own rest. It had taken three centuries but now at last the line of the witch was ended.

“I have not been responsible for your death by my own hand but through that of my instrument, but I am avenged. I hope you burn in hell-fire and suffer eternal damnation, Thomas Hobbes and all your issue. My wife and children can at last rest in peace, as can I.”

Abruptly he disappeared and the underground chamber was plunged into darkness once more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**2nd November 1985**  
Bodie stood close to Doyle as the small mobile crane began to lift the final pieces of rubble away from the piece of sunken ground. They’d been waiting more than three days for the rescue workers to get to this point and he felt deep down exhausted. He knew his partner wasn’t in a much better state but they had decided that while there was even a slim hope Lando would be found alive they would keep vigil.

Bodie shifted slightly, aiming to ease muscles cramped from standing too long in one position. Doyle shifted as well, in sync with him as always, both of them feeling the tension as the huge slab of concrete was slowly lifted higher.

“Not long now,” Doyle murmured.

“This waiting around is killing me.”

“Me too.” Doyle reached over and grabbed his hand, his grip almost painful, such was his anxiety.

Time seemed to pass too slowly as the slab was slowly winched higher. 

When he heard a car pull up on the old disused runway that had been pressed into service as a temporary car park, Bodie knew who it was, without having to look. The fucker had avoided him and Doyle since the cave in. Just as well; the temptation to beat the shit out of him was overpowering. One thing was for certain, if Lan was dead, nothing, not Doyle, not the police, not even Cowley, was going to stop him from killing Jack Cartwright, the bastard.

Cartwright finally made his way over to stand with them, close enough to see what was going on but far enough away not to imply that they were friends or colleagues. Which suited Bodie just fine.

“How’s Sean?” Doyle asked the question keeping his voice expressionless.

“He’s still out of it. The swelling in his brain hasn’t gone down enough yet so the doctors have decided to keep him unconscious for another day or so. They won’t know the real damage until he wakes up.”

That was the end of conversation between them for the next ten minutes as the slab inched higher. 

“Why’s it taking so long?” Cartwright muttered.

“Because the ground is too soft for heavier equipment, they can only use much lighter lifting gear.” Doyle replied softly but Bodie could hear the tension underlying the words.

“Oh.”

More time passed and Bodie had to move away from the edge of the small crater formed when the underground chamber had collapsed. He needed to do something to take his mind off the likelihood that Lando wasn’t going to walk away from this confrontation. Why on earth did the stupid bugger agree to set himself up as a target? Without realising it he’d reached the remains of the old control tower, so he walked inside through the doorway now bereft of doors and climbed a rough flight of concrete steps up to the observation area. Looking through the window that no longer had any glass, he could see the small group of men and machinery working frantically as the daylight faded. Lan had been buried for nearly ninety hours and even though the initial signs had been good, indicating that he had survived in a pocket of air under the huge slab, the microphone and infra-red scanner which had at first picked up sounds of his voice, breathing and signs of body heat, hadn’t recorded anything significant in the past day and a half. Since Bodie had heard Fitzwalter ranting in fact.

From his vantage point he watched the sun set, casting the pit and the workers into shadow. The instant the slab was finally winched aside, he headed back down the stairs. Trotting over to where Doyle was waiting, Bodie grasped his hand, offering and receiving love and support that was desperately needed.

Spotlights had been switched on to illuminate the working area when the sun had moved too low in the sky, and they now showed a man wearing a hi-vis jacket, with the word doctor emblazoned across the back clambering down a ladder into the pit

The lighting was stark and gave the shadows of the rubble surrounding the hollow sharp, threatening edges. Looking into the depths, Bodie could make out a grimy figure curled up into a foetal position with one arm pulled oddly to one side. Lan’s skin looked pale and almost white in the glare of the lights and Bodie shook his head despairingly.

The doctor knelt down beside Lan and made a quick examination. Bodie held his breath in a vain hope until the doctor shook his head and pulled his stethoscope away from his ears.

It was as though a dam had broken, rage tore through him and before Doyle could intervene, he threw himself at Cartwright, landing a punch on the other man’s chin which knocked him onto his arse. Leaning over, he grabbed onto Cartwright’s jacket, trying to haul him to his feet. “Come on, you bastard, get up so I can knock you down again!”

Cartwright made no attempt to protect himself which only made Bodie angrier. Fastening his hands on Cartwright’s lapels, Bodie pulled him into a standing position and shook him hard. “You fucker! You knew he was in danger on Halloween, he told you all about the ghost and you said you believed him. How could you let him out of your sight for even a minute?”

The guilt reflected in Cartwright’s eyes made Bodie stop for barely a second. The bastard! It all made sense now. “I’ve seen the way you look at Sean; you knew you didn’t stand a chance with him with Lan in the picture. I bet you lost him deliberately.” He continued to shake Cartwright who did nothing to resist. 

Finally, Doyle’s voice got through to him. “Bodie, stop now. Killing him won’t bring Lan back. He isn’t worth you spending years behind bars.”

Releasing his hold on Cartwright with difficulty, his hands felt as though they would be stuck in the shape of claws for the rest of his life. He turned and saw then that there were tears rolling down Ray’s face. Forgetting all about Cartwright, Bodie pulled his partner close. Burying his face in Doyle’s neck as he realised that there were tears on his own cheeks too.

Together, they turned back to where the rescue team were trying to retrieve Lan’s body. There was a brief moment of concern when the rescuers had to find some bolt cutters to cut the chain fastening him to the wall. Once that was accomplished, Lan was strapped carefully into a stretcher and the paramedics began the process of lifting him out of the pit.

Knowing they were going to have to provide an initial identification, Bodie started walking slowly to the area where the stretcher had come to rest, Doyle at his side.


	17. 2nd November 1985 (cont'd)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something odd happens when Lan's body is being recovered and Bodie and Doyle finally learn more about Fitzwalter.

Doyle knew he was dragging his feet as they walked over to join the doctor who was now kneeling beside Lan’s body, making some last checks. When he and Bodie had become involved in tracking down a serial killer, he’d never imagined it would end like this, with the loss of one, or more likely two, close friends.

They stood silently and Doyle closed his eyes to offer a silent prayer for Lan and Sean. 

“Sean’s going to be devastated when he wakes up,” Bodie murmured.

“If he wakes up,” Doyle reminded him. Compassion made him wonder if it would be better if Sean never regained consciousness, rather than having to deal with the loss of his lover. It would tear Sean apart to know that he hadn’t been there for Lan when the ghost stuck this year.

Bodie shifted uneasily. “The doc’s taking his time certifying him.”

“Yeah, I know. I wonder what the problem is.”

Doyle was astounded when the doctor suddenly leapt to his feet. He grabbed one end of the stretcher and waved at the paramedics. “We need to get him in the ambulance now. I need to attach him to a heart monitor. Get a chopper here yesterday! We need to get him to hospital.”

“What the…?”

They hurried forward as Lan was rushed into a nearby ambulance. The doctor had almost thrown himself inside and was ripping Lan’s filthy shirt open to attach electrodes to his chest.

Before Doyle’s disbelieving eyes, he saw the flat line trace image on the monitor peak to signify a heartbeat. The line was then flat for fifteen or twenty seconds before it blipped again.

“He’s still alive!” Bodie spoke wonderingly.

“His heart is beating too slowly.” Doyle looked at his watch and counted soundlessly. “It’s only going at about three or four beats a minute, that can’t be right.”

As if to give credence to his words, the heart monitor suddenly started bleeping far too fast. At the same time Lan suddenly arched up off the stretcher, every muscle taut, before collapsing back down onto it. The line on the heart monitor immediately went flat.

“Dammit! Don’t you dare die on me now, man.” The doctor barked instructions at the paramedic, who handed him a syringe with a large needle attached. Doyle had to turn away as he plunged it into Lan’s chest. The paramedic had meanwhile carefully eased a tube down Lan’s throat and had started squeezing and releasing an clear plastic bag.

“How long until the chopper arrives?” The doctor yelled through to the paramedic in the cab.

“Ten minutes, I’ve told them it’s urgent so they’ve sent an Air Sea Rescue chopper from Filton,” was the shouted response. 

The monitor was still making an appalling noise and the doctor waited barely seconds before announcing, “I’m going to have to shock him.”

There was then the sound of the paddles being charged before the doctor shouted, “Clear!”

He touched both paddles to Lan’s chest and his body convulsed as the electricity raced through him.

His heart rate jumped and the line on the monitor zig-zagged across the screen erratically before flat-lining again. Finally, after three more attempts with the defibrillator, the doctor was looking defeated; Lan’s heart was still not beating normally. One of the paramedics carried on with chest compressions while the other kept inflating Lan’s lungs and making sure his blood was oxygenated. 

“Oh fuck, I can’t stand to watch this. They’ve got to be able to do something,” Bodie muttered.

It was only then that Doyle realised his fists had been clenched so tightly, his fingers were numb and there were crescent-shaped indentations in his palms from his nails. He’d also been holding his breath if the pain in his chest was anything to go by. Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the ambulance door and stared across the airfield. The moon was low in the sky and huge, but its light wasn’t bright enough to compete with the floodlights still covering the pit where they had found Lan.

He was aware when Bodie came to stand next to him. “Hang on, sunshine, we’ll get through this.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I have to like it though.” He managed to force the word out even though his throat was clogged with sadness.

“Me either.” Without looking Doyle reached over for Bodie’s hand and gripped it tightly. 

“I know it looks like it’s going to be too late for Lan but I want to find that fucker’s grave and get someone to do an exorcism or something. I want him burning in hell for what he’s put Sean and Lan through.” Doyle spoke softly but he knew Bodie was following every word.

“Okay. For as long as it takes, I’ll be there. That’s what we’ll do.”

Time passed slowly and they were both stunned looking at each other open- mouthed when the sound of muted cheers erupted from the back of the ambulance.

“What the fu…?” Doyle spun around and was astounded to see the doctor using his stethoscope on Lan and behind him the heart monitor was showing a strong, even heartbeat.

Then, everything was drowned out by the sound of the emergency chopper landing fifty yards away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**4th November 1985**  
Doyle changed his position again on the straight-backed chair that rested between the two ICU beds in the Bristol Royal Infirmary. Sean and Lan were lying motionless in their respective hospital beds, the traces on the monitors attached to them, and their chests moving as they breathed the only movement in the room apart from Doyle’s fidgeting. 

He or Bodie had been here constantly since Lan had been admitted two days earlier and while Sean had been unconscious the whole time, Lan’s condition had fluctuated wildly. The resuscitation team had been into the room more times than Doyle could count to bring his heart rate back under control. 

When Bodie had cornered one of the doctors, and asked what the hell was going on, the man had shrugged and said it was as though Lan was fighting the medical interventions they were trying and that he had no idea why it was happening or what else they could do about it. 

Bodie had been suitably pissed off with the response and it had only been some diplomatic talking from Doyle and judicious use of their CI5 IDs that had meant they were allowed to remain.

Yesterday, Bodie had managed to convince the doctors to move Sean and Lan into the same room and so far Lan’s condition had seemed to stabilise, though no one was taking any bets that the crash team wouldn’t be needed again.

Fortunately, the nurses were susceptible to their combined charm and so they were brought tea or coffee at suitable intervals and allowed to remain as long as they didn’t get in the way.

Standing, Doyle tried to work the stiffness out of his legs – sitting still was never a favourite occupation for him. He turned and looked out of the window; five floors below the road outside the hospital was full of rush hour traffic. Fortunately the noise was deadened by the double glazed windows. He heard footsteps and turned as Bodie and Daphne came into the room. It was Daphne’s first visit and she grew visibly paler as she got her first good look at Sean and Lan’s injuries.

Sean’s face was badly bruised and he had bandages around his head from the surgery to remove some bone splinters from his skull that had been putting pressure on his brain. Lan looked less gruesome but his arm was in plaster. They both had drips going into both arms and electrodes attached all over to monitor their various vital functions.

Doyle guided her over to the seat he had been occupying, “How’s your friend doing?”

“Frances? She misses Neil dreadfully, as you would expect but otherwise is soldiering on. She is feeling guilty that Sean and Lan have been so badly hurt and so am I.” Daphne stopped talking and began fumbling in her handbag, dipping her head a little so that Doyle couldn’t see her face.

“If anyone should feel guilty, it’s Jack Cartwright. He was the one who agreed to Lan acting as bait in the first place,” Doyle said with some heat.

Daphne wiped her eyes on the tissue and nodded. “I know that but I’m not sure Lan would have gone ahead with it if there hadn’t been a chance of finding Neil alive.”

Doyle reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “I think he would have done. A friend of his was talking about putting himself out there as bait and Lan would never have gone along with that.”

A few minutes later, Daphne delved back into her bag and fished out a sheet of paper. “Some time ago you asked me to see if any of my contacts in the historical society knew anything about someone called Sir Roger Fitzwalter. I’ve got some information but I have no idea what to do with it now. He fought in the battle at Sedgemoor you know.”

“Yes, I’ve heard of him. Did your friend find out anything?” Bodie managed.

“I have some information and Geoffrey apologises that it took so long but he had to talk to someone else and go through a lot of records which have not yet been transferred to microfiche.” Daphne unfolded the paper and began to read.

“Roger Fitzwalter was born at Wick Manor, near the village of Langport into a wealthy, land owning family.”

“Langport? I know that name…,” Bodie interrupted. 

“It’s about ten miles from Westonzoyland. As the younger son there was no real money or land for Roger. He had to make his own way in the world. In 1679 his father bought him a commission in the Tangier Regiment and he lived overseas until 1684 when the regiment came home. He commanded one of the horse regiments in the King’s Army at Sedgemoor and was responsible for rounding up a great many of the rebels after the fighting. There are rumours that he and his men were responsible for some of the atrocities that took place after the battle, including hanging and ill-treatment of prisoners. Lando had mentioned his ancestor Thomas Hobbes was part of the rebel army and it does appear that he and Fitzwalter met at some stage. Geoffrey says that there are records in the Public Record Office in Chancery Lane from court proceedings of the time and that Fitzwalter took out a warrant to have Thomas tried for witchcraft in September 1685. The charges were that Thomas, who was being held in Wells goal at the time, had through use of a familiar caused the deaths of Fitzwalter’s wife and children.”

“Did he find out anything else, like where Fitzwalter died or where he is buried?” Doyle asked.

Daphne scanned down the notes. “Apparently he became embroiled in an argument in the Bull’s Head tavern in Wood Street, in the City of London. He was stabbed and died of his wounds. Geoffrey found the records of the trial of his attacker.”

“Did he tell you where Fitzwalter was buried?”

“Ah yes, here it is. The body was returned to his family and buried in the chapel of Wick Manor.”

“Got you at last, you murdering bastard!” Bodie said with grim satisfaction.


	18. 15th November 1985

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lan is now conscious but Sean is still in a coma. How will Lan go on if Sean doesn't wake up?

Lan closed his eyes but didn’t let go of Sean’s hand. He might be on the road to recovery but he was still as weak as a kitten. It was as much as he could do to struggle out of bed and move over to the chair beside Sean’s bed on his own. Washing and getting himself into a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms were still something he needed help with and not solely because of the cast on his arm. He’d had countless arguments with the nurses about neglecting his own recovery but mostly they understood, and didn’t think he was being overly dramatic, when he explained to them that Sean was his life.

Rubbing the fingers of his good hand over Sean’s he started talking. It was something he’d been doing as often as he physically could. Sean’s doctors had told him it would help and might be the impetus Sean needed to regain consciousness. 

He ached for the day when it would no longer be a one way conversation.

“I’ve told you yesterday about the conversation I had with Ned Hobbes, didn’t I? So, because of his plan, I didn’t know anything about it when Fitzwalter appeared. I bet he was mad though to think I’d got away from him.

“When I woke up Bodie told me that Daphne’s friend in the historical society had discovered where Fitzwalter was buried. His family came from about ten miles from the site of the battle. They got permission from the house owners, who were descendants of one of Fitzwalter’s brothers, to carry out an exorcism. Apparently, they had been experiencing disturbing noises and odd happenings in the house, particularly around Halloween, and were more than happy to help out. Bodie and Doyle explained a little about our problems with the ghost and I think the family were just relieved that someone else believed them. Doyle said that the exorcism was just a brief service with a priest, who said some words and sprinkled Holy Water about. I have no idea if it was that or the fact that Fitzwalter believed he had succeeded in wiping out the male line of Thomas and had passed on through his own volition, but not long after I woke up. As soon as I could I got them to let me out of bed so that I could come and sit with you. I stay here for as long as I can but I still get tired and have to go back and lie down.”

Lan looked down at their joined hands. Sean’s fingers were limp in his and looked pale. His lover was losing weight, though they were feeding him intravenously, it wasn’t enough to maintain his physique. The doctors were talking about tubes into his stomach to introduce more nourishment if Sean didn’t wake up soon.

“Greg Wootton’s in Broadmoor – did I mention that before? They’re pretty sure he’ll never stand trial… Jack was here a couple of days ago but he had to go back to London. He apologised about us being hurt and said that he would make sure the Commissioner knows the part we played in catching Wootton but I told him not to bother unless he knows it will do something to change attitudes in the Met toward gay coppers. He didn’t say it but I think he has got a lot of flak for letting us be involved in the investigation. We’re still a thorn in their side, even though they got us out of the force. It feels like a bit of poetic justice anyway…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**18th November 1985**  
Once the nurses had finished, Lan made his way over to the chair beside Sean’s bed and took his customary place again. Picking up Sean’s hand from where it rested on the blanket, Lan held it close to his face, brushing his lips over Sean’s thumb. He didn’t feel strong enough for this today. He knew he wasn’t close to being fully fit himself but seeing no change in Sean’s condition was draining his resolve. In all the time they’d been together, he’d come to rely on Sean as a constant, loud and loving presence in his life. Seeing the man he loved reduced to an empty, unreactive shell was killing him.

Feeling tears welling up in his eyes, Lan held Sean hand closer so that the salty liquid touched his skin.

The words he spoke next came unbidden, from his heart. “I’m sorry, Sean. I’m not strong enough. I’m finding it so hard to be close to you like this and for you not to react. I miss you so much. I miss sharing my days with you, having you there to tell me filthy jokes when I’m feeling fed up, or just having you there in the night to cuddle up to when I’m feeling lost or lonely. I miss the sound of your voice, and your accent. I miss seeing your desire for me in your eyes. I miss the way you leave toothpaste all over the washbasin in the morning. I want us to be back in our home, together, so we can stay in bed all day if we want or go to the pub for a pint… I want…” The lump in his throat grew and he couldn’t say any more.

Leaning forward, with Sean’s hand held firmly, Lan buried his face in the blanket and let his tears fall freely. The thought of being without Sean wasn’t something he wanted to contemplate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**19th November 1985**  
It was an effort to drag himself out of bed each morning but, with the hope that today might be the day Sean would show signs of waking, Lan ignored his breakfast – he wasn’t hungry – and stumbled over to the chair beside Sean’s bed.

Taking Sean’s hand as usual, he started talking. “They want to move me out of intensive care. I don’t need the bed here any longer, in fact I think they’d prefer if they could discharge me and send me home. I keep arguing that I need to stay close to you but they aren’t listening. They mentioned something about moving you into a normal ward, maybe a single room so that I can stay with you all day. But I’d have to go home at night. You see the thing is, I don’t want to think about leaving you here. I know I’ll hate being at home alone, I’ll miss you too much. I know I ought to be grateful that I survived but I don’t want to if I can’t be with you. Bodie or Ray won’t let me overdo it but it’s going to be really tough to get through the days while you’re still stuck here.” 

Lan stopped talking for a while, he didn’t know what else to say. He’d tried everything he could think of to persuade Sean to come back to him and it hadn’t made any difference so far. Maybe he could get someone to bring him in a book or something, maybe he could read that. At least then Sean would continue to hear his voice and that might be enough to lead him back.

Julie, one of his favourite nurses bustled into the room. “Morning, Lan, how are you doing today?” She looked at the monitors standing behind Sean’s bed and started making notes on his chart.

Lan shrugged. “Same as usual I suppose.”

“How’s Sean?”

“No change.”

“Well, don’t give up; he could wake up any time...”

“I hope so. They are talking about moving me to a normal ward later today and then home by the end of the week.”

“Don’t you want to go home?”

Distracted by her questions it took Lan a moment to realise that Sean’s hand was moving in his. It was only a flutter of movement but it was more than he’d felt before.

“Julie come quickly! His hand’s moving!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**13th January 1986**  
The drive to Westonzoyland had taken a bit over an hour but once there it didn’t take Doyle long to park near the church. Lan felt sure this visit would be difficult. His emotions had been all over the place since he and Sean had been released from hospital but neither of them was well enough to risk driving so far just yet.

Sean was getting better but the doctors wouldn’t give him permission to drive until they were convinced he wouldn’t relapse. Lan’s arm was still giving him problems, despite two operations to repair the broken bone. Their on-going injuries meant that they hadn’t been able to take on any new work for more than two months so their pensions and the money they had saved had been a Godsend. Jack had mentioned trying to get them some compensation for their injuries from the police but Lan wasn’t going to hold his breath until it arrived. 

It was a brilliantly bright but cold winter’s day and Lan held Sean’s hand as they made their slow way into the churchyard. Unerringly, Lan led the group over to a raised area next to the wall, dividing the churchyard from the lane that ran alongside it. He pointed to the left of the mound, “He’s there. The wall was moved in 1907 when major renovations were carried out to the church. Before that he was lying in un-consecrated ground.”

He was glad when no one asked if he was sure. It wasn’t something he could explain, he just knew where Ned Hobbes had been laid to rest.

“How do you want to do this?” Bodie asked a small wooden cross in his hand.

“If you could stand the cross up against the wall, maybe stick the end into the ground a little way so it doesn’t fall over? I spoke to the vicar here and he was happy for us to do this.”

“Okay.” 

It didn’t take Bodie long to poke the sharp end of the cross in the long grass. Lan took a small bunch of white roses and freesias from Doyle’s safekeeping and stood uncomfortably by the low mound of earth. He’d spent the last few days trying to come up with the right words but nothing had appeared and now he felt tongue tied.

Wordlessly, Sean put his hand on Lan’s shoulder and squeezed. 

Whether Sean’s closeness was the impetus needed, Lan didn’t know but suddenly the words came to him. 

“Ned, I hope you can hear me because there’s so much I need to thank you for. Firstly, I’m grateful to you for saving my life. If you hadn’t helped me, Fitzwalter would have killed me. I heard that he appeared but, because he thought I was already dead, I survived. Then, I have to thank you for all that you’ve done for our family; if you hadn’t taken Thomas’s place I wouldn’t be here now. You’ve spent the last three hundred years looking out for us and helping where you could and it’s time for you to move on. You’ve denied yourself a chance to rest in peace for too long. I’m positive we’ve finally dealt with Fitzwalter for good and he won’t be back.”

Having spoken the last few words, Lan placed the flowers on the ground and stood with his head bowed for a few seconds. It didn’t take long until he sensed another presence. Lifting his head he saw a faint outline against the wall which became clearer as he watched.

“Ned? Is that you? Can anyone else see you?”

“Perhaps, I think that one there, whose name I am unfamiliar with, can.” Ned gestured towards Bodie.

Lan smiled remembering Bodie’s familiarity with the supernatural. “I think you may be right.”

“So, Lando, I am pleased to see you looking so much better.” Lan couldn’t decide if Ned was speaking aloud or in his head.

“I’m improving and so is Sean.” Lan gestured at his lover.

Ned drew closer until he was standing in front of Lan and Sean. “I am pleased to hear this news. He is a good man, Lando, and loves you more than you can imagine.”

“I know he does.” Lan turned to his lover. “Sean, can you see –?” 

“Yes, I can and hear him too,” Sean interrupted. “Listen, Ned, Lan told me what you did for him and I want to thank you too. Lan is my life and I could not have pulled through if he hadn’t been beside me, in hospital and since.”

Ned smiled and nodded. “I know. I can see how strongly your souls are entwined. You were destined to meet and overcome many obstacles. Your love is eternal and you will be together for all time.”

Lan looked at Sean, wondering if he was as stunned by Ned’s pronouncement as Lan was himself. “You mean even after we die, we will be together?”

“For eternity,” Ned confirmed with another wider smile. “But, I should not speak of such things. As you have said, it is long past time for me to move on as you have no further need of my protection. Fitzwalter is no more and cannot trouble you henceforth. You must live your lives to the full and make a difference to those around you.”

Lan grabbed Sean’s hand and held onto him, drawing strength from him. Even though he had not had much face to face contact with Ned, there was a connection there and it was as though he was bidding farewell to a very good friend. “Goodbye, Ned. Thank you for all that you have done for us. Be at peace.”

With a bow and a beaming smile in their direction, the spirit of Edward Hobbes faded slowly from sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an epilogue to wrap up this part of their story to go!


	19. Epilogue February 1986

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath and tying up some loose ends

The doorbell rang so Lan threw the tea towel he’d been using to dry up their breakfast dishes onto the counter and headed for the door.

Instead of their usual postman, a man was standing there in the uniform of a courier company. “Mr Bloom?”

“Yes.”

He offered Lan a pad and pen. “Please sign here.”

“For what?”

“I’ve got a package here for you.” The delivery man, pointed to the large cardboard box at his feet.

Once he'd signed the receipt and the delivery man had left, Lan carried the box into the kitchen. It wasn’t as heavy as he had expected from its size. 

Sean followed him into the room. “What’s that?”

“No idea.” Lan looked around for a pair of scissors.

“Who’s it from?”

Lan squinted at the label on the front of the box. “It says R Armstong Esq. I have no idea who R Armstong is – does it mean anything to you?”

Sean sat down at the table and shook his head. “Nope.”

“Well hopefully there’s a letter or something inside to explain.”

“A box full of fivers would be nice about now.” Sean smiled grimly. 

Sean was still plagued with blinding headaches and even with extensive physiotherapy Lan still hadn’t regained full movement in his arm and shoulder. They were managing to work for two days a week now but as a consequence were still having to turn work away. They had agreed that sacking Daphne was a last resort so were taking no money out of the business and using more of their savings to pay their bills. They both knew it was a state of affairs that couldn’t continue indefinitely. 

“Well, it’s not a box of one pound coins, that’s for sure. It’s too light.” 

Sean passed him the scissors and Lan opened the box. Whatever was inside was wrapped carefully in lots of plastic bubble wrap which was taped together. There was an envelope at the top addressed to Mr Orlando Bloom.

Sliding his finger under the flap, Lan opened the envelope and pulled out several sheets of paper.

He scanned the first few lines and then began reading aloud so Sean would know what was in the letter.

“Dear Mr Bloom, firstly I would like to apologise for not contacting you before sending the item in the box. It is something that has been in our family for many years but there has always been some controversy on how we came by it. Following a visit by some friends of yours in November, I was able to research the ownership of the item in question and now believe that as the last male descendent of Thomas Hobbes, it belongs to you.

“I have been in touch with Mr Bodie who, apart from giving me your address, has apprised me of the contact you have had with my ancestor Roger Fitzwalter over a number of years and while the story seems incredible I have no trouble believing it. We have experienced several visitations over the time I have been living here at Wick Manor –”

“Wick? Isn’t that where Fitzwalter was buried?” Sean asked.

“Yeah. I remember Bodie telling me that the family were keen to get rid of him too.” Lan said thoughtfully.

“Okay, don't keep me hanging, read the rest.”

“Okay, keep your shirt on. When we arranged to carry out the exorcism of our unlamented relative, we came across the enclosed manuscript in a sealed container in the crypt. I have no explanation why it hadn’t been discovered before but there was a handwritten note on the title page saying it had been given to Thomas Hobbes by the author.”

“What manuscript?” Sean wanted to know.

Lan put the letter down and carefully pulled the wrapped parcel out of the box. “It must be this.”

He cut the tape holding the plastic closed and then found another box. Inside there was a manuscript wrapped in tissue paper. Holding the parchment within the tissue paper, Lan looked at the front page. The script was strange but he made out the title and an inscription. “It’s called a collection of essays by Daniel De Foe and it says he presented it to Thomas Hobbes on the occasion of his fifteenth birthday.”

“Defoe? Didn’t he write Robinson Crusoe?”

“Yes, he did. But this is spelt De Foe, I'm not even sure it's the same person and anyway how did this come to be given to Thomas? Did Defoe come from Somerset?”

“I've no idea," Sean responded. "What else is in the letter from Armstong? He might explain.”

Finding his place Lan continued to read. “Defoe, as he came to be known, was a well-known writer of political and religious pamphlets in the seventeenth century, he was also from a family of dissenters – those who did not want a catholic king. Defoe took part in the Battle of Sedgemoor and I am guessing that it was around this time that he became friendly with Thomas Hobbes and gave him the essays. Perhaps he had ideas that the lad would become a writer too? 

“It is pure speculation on our part but it is known that after the battle, many families tried to buy the freedom of their loved ones and we suspect that Thomas’s family might have attempted this. Judge Jeffries was recorded as taking bribes for lenient sentences and it is possible that they asked Fitzwalter to intercede on their behalf with Jeffries. Of course, being the immoral character we know him to be, it is likely that Fitzwalter kept the collection of essays for himself, intending to sell them in due course but his death intervened and rather than part with them, we think he instructed that they be interred with him.

“As Defoe’s work is now very collectible and documents like this, with an established provenance, are very rare, we took the liberty of having them valued by Broughton’s of London. They have stated that, in their opinion, if these papers were to go to auction, they would realise somewhere in the region of two hundred and fifty thousand pounds.”

“What!” Sean almost shouted and then immediately winced which told Lan he was developing a headache – a worryingly frequent event since his injury.

“A quarter of a million pounds?” Lan looked over at Sean. “Why are they giving this much to us?”

“I have no idea other than what they have said about feeling it should have come to you anyway because it was once owned by Thomas and Fitzwalter stole it from him.”

“I’m going to have to talk to them, make sure they know what they are doing. This is a lot of money to give away to someone you don’t even know.”

“Was that all they said in the letter?”

Lan scanned the last few lines and then shook his head. “Armstong is a mind reader! He goes on to write, I realise you must be wondering why we have passed the manuscripts over to you. Apart from the moral aspect and a feeling that we must do something to counteract the evil perpetrated by Roger Fitzwalter against your family for so many years, we cannot stand by and see your business venture suffer because you are both partially incapacitated by the injuries you received, at the hand of Fitzwalter’s creature.

“We hope you will accept this gift but, if you cannot, then we ask that you donate it to your favourite charity and let them enjoy the proceeds.” 

Feeling suddenly weak, Lan pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down heavily. He placed the tissue wrapped package down on the table. Glancing across the table at his lover, he saw that Sean was equally stunned.

“What do we do, Sean?”

“I have no idea but right now I think we need to put that back in its box so that it’s safe. I don’t know about you but I need a drink, or more likely two. Then we can think about what we do with it.”

Lan nodded. “That sounds good to me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After several days of thought and a number of conversations with their friends Lan and Sean decided to accept the gift from the Armstong family. After a number of checks to confirm the provenance of the documents, they were sold at Broughton’s for a record fee of two hundred and seventy-six thousand pounds. Seven months later, after Greg Wootton had been detained indefinitely in Broadmoor, they received compensation for their injuries to the value of twenty thousand pounds. Sean and Orlando made several investments and donated their compensation payment to ensure the continued running of the LLGS.

The interest received from their investments ensured they could continue to run Bean and Bloom investigations on a part time basis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**December 2005  
 _Except from the Bristol News 24th December 2005_**

The first civil partnership ceremony to be carried out in Bristol, since the recent change in the law, took place today. A large group of family and friends were gathered at the Queen’s Hotel in the city to help, Mr Sean Bean and Mr Orlando Bloom, local businessmen who have been residents in the city for more than twenty years, celebrate the happy occasion. 

Bean (58) and Bloom (50) are leading figures in the CCTV industry, having seen the potential of this technology and investing early on. In 1998 they sold their seventy-five percent share in BB security for a sum rumoured to be in excess of five million pounds. 

Both men are heavily involved in local LGBT charities and are founders and trustees of the Neil Gardner Project, a charity set up in 1987 in memory of Neil Gardner who was murdered by the serial killer Greg Wootton. The Project offers support and advice to Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender people.

Both men were quoted as saying they were incredibly happy that at long last it was possible for their relationship to be acknowledged publicly and within the law.

Bristol News has learned that the two men are intending to spend a month in New Zealand as part of an extended period of travel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and all your comments on this episode in Sean and Lan's story - only one more part of their story to go!


End file.
